Sunshine on Snow
by ArabellaFaith
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts to take her NEWTS & ingratiate herself into Severus Snape's life- whether he likes it or not. When things start to get steamy, he pulls away, but Hermione is determined that they could make it work. Thinking she will lose interest, he suggests a compromise... He's about to learn that Hermione won't let him go that easily. Rating up for language & smut.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello all! Just wanted to say a few quick words about this story. First, its a little different from most of my other works because it actually has more plot than smut. Wild for me, I know. That's not to say that it doesn't have ANY smut, because I promise you there are some very tasty lemons in here, but this story focuses more on a budding relationship between our favorite professor and his swot, and how they handle the crazy restrictions he puts upon them. Second, I'm going to apologize in advance for how helter-skelter this story is. I am editing as I post, but because I am also writing a second story and resisting the urge to read other fanfiction every spare moment I have (damn you Home Away From Hogwarts suggestions!) I know it's not quite as polished as I would like. To make up for that fact, these chapters will be uploaded fairly quickly, and most of them are several thousand words at a time.**_

 _ **As always, your reviews are what keep me going, and I treasure each and every one (no, seriously, I save every email notification I get for one and sometimes I go back through them a little like Smaug rolling in his gold piles). Happy Reading!**_

At first, Severus had thought the minister had been joking. He couldn't actually be implying that the former Potions Professor had no choice about returning to Hogwarts. He bloody well had the right to quit the job if he wanted! But no, it had been no joke. Thanks to Harry Potter's testimony at Snape's hearing, he had been cleared of all charges against him. So he should have been free to withdraw from society as a whole and live out the remainder of his miserable years in solitude. Except that the new minister had no intention of allowing that. The school was in shambles, the public's confidence in the Ministry at an all time low, and their world's population had been greatly reduced during the war.

And so Severus Snape had been forced to resume his post as Potions Master at the school, even if just in a temporary capacity. When the school had been repaired and the students who'd missed out on their final year had been tutored and allowed to take their N.E.W.T.S, then he would be released from his sentence. The day couldn't come fast enough.

Thankfully, every effort was being made to have the castle renovated as quickly as possible and the students that were choosing to return to take their tests were few. While under any other circumstances, satisfactory scores would be necessary to get into a respectable profession or a prestigious university, concessions were being made. Severus knew for a fact that Harry and his bumbling ginger friend were being allowed to train as Aurors without any of the requisite studies. No surprise there. Others as well, were moving on despite the gap in their education. The inept Longbottom boy had been made apprentice to a respected herbologist. Even the dreadful Lavender Brown was working in the Divination House in Kent.

He hadn't been even remotely surprised to find that the brains of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger, was returning to complete her schooling. Indeed, he would have been surprised if her incessant thirst for knowledge and need for validation from her teachers _hadn't_ driven her back to the castle. He was not looking forward to six more months of having to deal with her pushy shows of intelligence and desperation for acknowledgment. At least if he'd been teaching her in a regular potions class he could have ignored her or taken house points if she vomited useless facts out of turn. Alas, the potions tutoring was one on one, and he would have no respite from the swot.

It wasn't that he hated the girl. He could admit, reluctantly, that she was bright. He could even respect her thirst for knowledge. What he could not abide was weakness. Vulnerability. Showing emotion was weak. Needing validation displayed weakness. Reacting to censure in any way other than stoicism was weak. Her inability to show controlled indifference repelled him. She would never be a strong, independent woman if she felt the need to prove herself to everyone she met.

Not that her fellow students were any better. No, they didn't regurgitate obscure passages from text books, but they were constantly wearing their pathetic hearts on their sleeves. Tears from the third year who had been rejected by a paramour. Syrupy displays of affection from the sixth year couple convinced that _theirs_ was the love of the century. First years quaking in their boots at unfamiliar surroundings. He had spent the last two decades surrounded by volcanic rages of hormones and ridiculous outbursts of emotion.

He allowed himself to hope that perhaps without her infamous cohorts clinging to her skirts, she would be slightly more bearable. After all, he could admit to himself that another large part of his dislike of her had been her choice in friends. Potter junior bore unmistakable resemblance to Potter senior in both looks and attitude. Between that, and the malignant presence of a piece of Voldemort's soul in the boy, there hadn't been any chance that Severus would be able to stomach the offspring of his childhood rival. Yes, there was much of Lily in him, but even that only served to remind Severus of his shortcomings and his tragic mistake.

Even without the dunderheads she considered her best friends at her side, though, Severus doubted he would take any pleasure from tutoring the girl. Something told him she would only bring him trouble. Unsettled and upset at being unsettled, he waited for her to burst through the door at any moment as if she would implode from lack of knowledge. He waited. And waited. His impatience mounted and turned swiftly to anger. Was she really going to show so much disrespect as to be late for their first tutoring session? In an uncharacteristic display, his long fingers drummed on the table.

He had just been about to storm out of the dungeons and send her a note that she could forget his assistance in preparing for her potions NEWT, when a voice from somewhere down the hall reached his ears.

"Professor? Professor Snape?"

She had just poked her head through a door several feet down the hall when Severus strode out into the corridor. "Miss Granger!" he snapped. She jumped and turned quickly toward the sound of his voice.

"Professor! Oh thank goodness. I've been wandering around down here for half an hour trying to find what room you were in." She straightened her bag and made her way to him. He curled his lip in distaste.

"Were your eyes damaged in the battle, Miss Granger? Perhaps a blow to the head is interfering with your ability to read? The instructions were outlined succinctly on your schedule."

"I was told to go to the potions office, sir. Since the potions classroom was destroyed and has yet to be rebuilt, I had no idea where to find the adjoining office." Her voice was tight with frustration, but she didn't seem in any way cowed by his anger.

"Obviously the office is next to the room where potions classes are being held temporarily until the original chamber is rebuilt. If you were unaware as to it's location, you should have asked _before_ making your way to your lessons so as to avoid wasting my time."

"Well now I know where to go for next time, and I doubt any of my other tutors will be nearly as fanatical about my punctuality considering the circumstances, so let's call the point moot and start with the lesson, shall we?"

Severus loomed over her and glared thunderously at her impertinence. When she only waited patiently, he finally turned and stalked back into the office. She followed and took her seat, listening as he began without preamble.

"You are here to receive preparation for your NEWT in potions. I am not teaching at the school in any other capacity and thus have no interest in house points, homework assignments, or detentions. According to the ministry, you are not here as a student, but instead an adult seeking further education. As such, I expect you to behave accordingly. Whether you take my lessons seriously and strive to better your learning makes no difference to me. This does not mean, however, that I will abide disrespect or frivolity. Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly, Professor."

Severus was a bit taken aback. That was not the answer he'd expected. Surely the idea that he didn't care if she actually learned anything in their lessons should outrage the girl. But no, she simply dipped her quill in ink and prepared to take notes.

Nonplussed, Severus launched into his lesson. Halfway through their allotted time, he had her put away her parchment and gather ingredients to brew. The potion he had her preparing was difficult, and it took all of her concentration. Before, when his class was brewing, he either had a stack of essays to grade or he had idiots like Finnegan to watch after to prevent explosions. While Hermione had failed a potion before, he'd never had to watch her for fear of disastrous results. At a sudden loss of what to do with his time, Severus found himself studying the young woman before him. Because despite his mind's automatic classification of her as a girl, she was indeed a young woman.

She must have stopped growing taller in her third or fourth year, as she couldn't have been more than five and a half feet tall. Though she had filled out with appealing female curves, he wouldn't guess her to weigh more than nine stone. In the small room, he suddenly felt gangly and over-large. He was six foot and had never felt particularly tall at that. Sirius Black had been several inches taller than him. Dumbledore, as well, had stood considerably taller than Severus and always maintained the unsettling habit of _twinkling_ down at him. Though Severus' limbs were long and lean, he'd never in his life been accused of being bulky. He was twelve stone, but the weight was densely packed into sleek muscle that had been honed by necessity during his work as a spy rather than in pursuit of vanity. Still, he was suddenly very aware of his physical presence in the room compared to hers.

He scowled. It was just that he wasn't used to working in such confined quarters. He'd spent years striding the corridors of the dungeons and sweeping the length of his classroom. Being confined in such a small space with her was all that was unsettling him. It had nothing to do with the scent of freesia reaching his nose. And certainly nothing to do with the way she slipped one stocking clad foot free from her shoe and rubbed the back of the opposite calf with it as she thought. After all, he wasn't one to notice such things as graceful feet or shapely legs. _Especially_ on know-it-all little girls who were under his tutelage... even if the ministry didn't consider her a student any longer.

Frustrated with himself for his errant thoughts, he turned his attention to the potion she was brewing and realized she'd nearly completed it. From what he could see, she'd done it impeccably. Surprise colored his features for a split second before he schooled them once more into scornful indifference. She'd made it through nearly all their time together without obnoxiously inserting useless information into the discussion. They were one on one, so he hadn't had to worry about her straining a muscle trying to raise her hand higher than her small stature would allow, but nor had she tripped over herself attempting to dazzle him with her array of knowledge. She finished the potion and offered it to him, her face filled with hopeful expectation, but not desperation for approval.

Was it possible that the tiger had changed its stripes? Somewhere in the year and a half since she'd been his student, had she grown into her own? The idea appealed to him, and not just in the prospect of being less irritated by her during their time together. He decided to test the waters. Perhaps she had merely grown some semblance of restraint.

"Your lacewing flies aren't properly ground. They should be finer than this." He put as much disdain in his voice as possible. She gave him a nod, but then a negligent wave of her hand.

"I've found that the lacewing can be prepared several ways depending on the ultimate use of the potion. Ground, they will bring out it's strengthening effects, but finely diced will heighten it's replenishing effects. Minced like this is better for stamina aid."

"And what makes you so certain of your assumptions, Miss Granger?" He looked down his hooked nose at her, expecting her to tell him what page of what text she'd found it on.

"This was the potion I made most often for the boys last year, aside from dittany. There were times when we needed it for blood or bone replenishing, but more often than not we used it to fend off exhaustion. A sharp knife instead of a mortar and pestle gave me the best results for what we needed."

Shocked, but unwilling to let it show, he simply stared at her for long moments. Granger, putting to use practical application instead of rigidly repeating what a book told her? He lifted one dark brow. Changing her stripes indeed. "What makes you think I will find this acceptable?"

"I actually learned it from you," she said with a sudden grin. At his scowl, she went on. "It was in the potions book Harry used that had been yours. I learned quite a lot from that book. About brewing and about-" she stopped abruptly.

"About what?"

"About you." The admission was soft, almost shy. Severus sneered down at her.

"Whatever you think you learned about me from a battered text book I haven't used since I was sixteen, I assure you that you are wrong."

She started to flinch back at the venom in his voice, but then stopped herself. "There's no one here to fool, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"I get that during your time teaching while Voldemort was out there, you couldn't risk showing any kind of favor to Gryffindors, let alone a muggle born one. I've never held that against you. But Voldemort's dead, and his servants are locked up in Azkaban. So there's no reason for you to continue to be cruel to me."

Suddenly, Severus felt curiously naked. As if the cloak he'd shrouded himself in for the last two decades had been stripped away and he was standing before her utterly bare. His stomach tightened in unease that he quickly displayed as scorn.

"What makes you think that I'm not simply a cruel man?"

The chit had the audacity to smile at him again. "That could never be the case."

"The wizarding world at large would disagree with you," he growled disdainfully, wondering why he was allowing this banter.

"That's not true at all. Don't you read the papers?"

"As I recall, last time I bothered to read an article in Witch Weekly, it painted you in a rather damning light."

Hermione blushed at the mention of the article that horrid Skeeter woman had published about her being 'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache.' Snape let a satisfied smirk curl his lips. That would silence her.

"I'm not talking about the gossip rags. And now that Skeeter isn't writing for the Prophet, that's not what it is anymore. Everyone thinks you're a hero."

"Well unlike your fame-hungry friend, I have no intention of letting current public opinion affect me." He paused a moment, waiting for the outraged defense to come. He'd heard her stand up for Potter often enough in the halls.

"You know he's not like that," she said somewhat sadly. Surprised again and becoming quickly tired of it, Severus only snarled. "He could have been like that. Maybe his father would have been. But Harry isn't, and after all this time you have seen the evidence of it over and over."

"If you're thinking I will suddenly sing his praises you are gravely mistaken."

Hermione sighed. "Of course not, Professor." She gathered her things and started to turn to the door. "Harry has the utmost respect for you, sir. He's defended you over and over to anyone who dared malign your character. You don't have to like him. You don't have to like me. But we care about you just the same." With that, she went to the door.

"You haven't been dismissed," Severus hissed at her, loathe to allow her the last word. But what could he say back to her?

"Apparently, sir, I have." Without waiting any longer, she left. Furious, Severus snatched the potion she'd brewed and threw it against the wall. The beaker shattered and thick, dark liquid splattered the wall. He seethed, half hoping she would storm back in to see what he'd done and half hoping he would never lay eyes on her again.

" _Majstro repairo,"_ he muttered, flicking his wand at the glass shards littering the floor. The beaker knit itself back together and the rivulets of potion making their way down the wall condensed into a nebulous mass and then poured back into their container. Grudgingly, he bottled the potion and sent it off to the school's stores, labeled **healing drought- exhaustion sensitive**. Even in his anger he wouldn't see her work wasted.

Suddenly feeling defeated, he sank into the uncomfortable chair behind his desk and let his forehead fall into his hands. Why did she unsettle him so? It was obvious to see that she was no longer the irritating little girl who he'd watched year after year in his classroom. That should be a comfort. Instead, he found himself wishing he could scorn her weakness and demean her vulnerability. He was familiar with them. He could fall back into rituals that had served him for twenty years. But she denied him that tack with her calm rationality and tentative offer of...what? Friendship? Even without an audience to appreciate it, his lip curled into a sneer. He certainly didn't need friendship from _her_.

He didn't need friendship from anyone. He'd done without more than cursory respect from his peers for most of his life, and often didn't have even that. Friends either turned their backs on you or betrayed you. Fear was a much more powerful motivator. It had served him better than love ever had.

The door to the office opened to admit another student. Luna Lovegood skipped inside and laid her brightly colored bag on the small desk opposite his. "Good morning, sir! Lovely weather down here, isn't it? The slipperpies seem quite happy."

Severus kept his face carefully blank while inside he groaned in despair. From Hermione Granger, who refused to fear his wrath out of misplaced respect, to Lovegood, who dismissed his every snip and snarl as the side effect of the nargles festering in his ears. He would be lucky if he kept from going mad by lunch.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione made her way to her second potions tutoring session later that week determined to draw her professor - _no, he's not technically a professor any longer_ , she reminded herself- into pleasant conversation. He'd been friends with Harry's mother, so she knew he was capable of more than disdain and derision. Somewhere under the armor of cold indifference he'd built around himself, there was a sensitive, caring man who'd been buried long ago. She only had to draw him out.

And she'd made it her personal mission to do so. Seeing him bleeding to death in the Shrieking Shack had changed something inside her. Even before she'd known of his innocence, watching the once formidable man fade before her eyes had been nearly more than she could bear. It was why, perhaps, she returned to the Shrieking Shack while Harry was in Dumbledore's office looking at Snape's memories and Ron had been consumed with grief for his brother's death. No one had noticed her slip from the castle and back through the passage under the Whomping Willow.

The irony that _he'd_ been the one to teach her to brew the potion capable of putting a 'stopper in death' as he'd called it, wasn't lost on her. Nor was the fact that _Harry_ had taught her to daub a little on the ghastly wound before pouring the rest down his throat. Nowhere in a potions or healing book did it say that allowing the potion to start its work from the outside in could increase the chances of survival in mortal wounds. It was something Harry had discovered on his own. It had taken all three of them to save him. Snape's instructions to brew the potion, Harry's long ago given advice about how to use it, and Hermione's determination to see Severus live- even if just to face the Aurors in answer for Dumbledore's death.

It had taken several long, agonizing minutes until she'd been able to detect a pulse. Before the pale skin that had grown cold began to warm under her fingers. That had been the first time she'd realized Snape was no dry literary figure, no two dimensional villain, no unreachable character, but a flesh and blood man fighting to survive. She'd watched his chest rise and fall, shallowly at first but more and more steadily. She'd noticed the lines of stress that seemed to have become permanently etched onto his face. Noticed how gaunt his body was. She wondered when the last time he'd been able to get a full, peaceful night sleep had been. Then she'd pictured him in bed at night, tossing and turning in the grips of a nightmare, or worse, waiting in fear for the tell-tale burning of his dark mark to summon him to Voldemort. Instead of thinking it was his just-desserts for Dumbledore's death, Hermione only felt grief. For what he'd gone through, what he'd become. A brilliant mind poisoned against reason and twisted by hate. And all for what? A feud about the standing of muggleborns? It was rubbish and she knew he knew that. The greed of an evil man for power? There was no way Snape respected or cared for Voldemort.

So much loss. So much waste.

She had levitated him out of the shack and piled him with the rest of the wounded. It was only after seeing Harry's pensieve testimony that the true magnitude of what Snape had gone through had hit her. Suddenly, so much of what he'd done made perfect sense. How could he show any pride or partiality to students from other houses, or muggleborns at all? How could he stand to be in the presence of Harry, not only the son of his childhood tormentor, but also the unwilling vessel of a piece of Voldemort's soul? The man for whom Severus' hatred eclipsed even his hatred of himself.

All the days Snape had stormed into the dungeons spewing fire and ready to tear into a student at the drop of a hat suddenly matched up with the nights before when he'd been called to serve Voldemort's twisted bidding, or observe a sick revel. It was no wonder he never smiled and only laughed in irony or bitterness. And worse, to be constantly insulted and degraded by those he was risking so much to protect. How many times had Harry called Snape the 'greasy git of the dungeons' only to have Snape put his life on the line to save him? How many times had they doubted Snape, only to have him maneuver things to protect and shield them? After all he'd been through, he had every right to hate them and everyone else in the world.

She knew that he hadn't come back to the castle of his own accord. If not for the Minister's near threatening insistence, he would have disappeared, likely never to be seen again. Despite how much she knew he had to hate his forced presence, Hermione couldn't help but be grateful for it. Not to learn from him, though she knew there was still much he could teach her. But to have the opportunity to thank him for what he'd done, and perhaps find a way to bring him some small measure of peace.

The year she'd spent on the run with Harry and Ron had taught her much about herself. What were test scores and study schedules in the face of life and death? Being at the mercy of people like Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange had driven out the need to prove herself. She was strong and capable. There would always be people who doubted and demeaned her. What they thought didn't matter. She respected the opinions of those she cared about, but outside of that small group, the rest of the world could go hang. And with those realizations came faith in her own abilities and confidence in her intelligence.

She'd known as soon as the arrangements had been made that she could take her NEWTS and pass with flying colors. Without some brushing up, they likely wouldn't be the highest in Hogwart's history, but that no longer mattered to her. She could have taken them and passed with high enough marks that no door in the wizarding world would be closed to her. But instead of speaking to Headmistress McGonagall about skipping the tutoring, she'd eagerly signed up for it, simply to have the chance to spend time with Snape.

She _could_ reach him. She knew it. It was just a matter of not getting herself thrown out in the process.

"Good morning, Professor," she greeted warmly as she walked into the office that had been bequeathed to him for tutoring. He glanced up at her from the ingredients he was cataloging and barely acknowledged her. He waved negligently at a potion list sitting on the desk. On the parchment were the names of two brews she presumed he wanted her to start. She sat her bag down and turned to the ingredients he was rifling through. When they both reached for the powdered hen's teeth, their hands brushed. Snape pulled back as if she'd scalded him and glared at her. "Sorry," she murmured, wondering if she'd ever felt his hands before. Likely not. She would have remembered how warm they were, how calloused his fingers felt. He was so pale and lanky that one would expect his skin to be cool and smooth, like marble. Instead, she was reminded yet again of just how human he was. How male.

 _Of course he's male,_ she told herself sternly. What a silly thought to have. He was about as sexless as Professor Binns to her, but with how deep his voice was there hadn't ever been any doubts about his masculinity. Her eyes lingered on him as he moved to the other end of the table to prevent any more accidental contact between them. It was obvious he wasn't used to being touched. Didn't like it, perhaps? Or simply so out of practice that it made him uncomfortable? Hermione herself was very tactile. Her best friends were Harry and Ron, after all. Ron came from a family that was so hands-on that it was hard to escape a visit without having gotten at least a dozen hugs and just as many pushes, pulls, tousels, and other touches. Harry wasn't used to physical affection in any way because of having lived with the Dursley's, but seemed to be so starved for it that he made up for lost time at school.

She wondered when was the last time anyone had hugged Snape. Somehow she didn't see the faculty embracing him, despite how they'd welcomed him back to the castle. Nor did she see him being willing to accept them from Dumbledore, before his death. Hermione, who'd just gotten a hug from Ginny after breakfast, ached for him. Idly, she wondered what he would do if she hugged him. The thought was almost comical. Either he would hex her or he would go stiff as a board and try to pretend it wasn't happening.

If she judged right, her head would sit well under his chin, and her cheek would rest against his chest. Her stomach did a funny little flip at the thought. What was the matter with her today? As if he could sense her scrutiny, Snape's black eyes glanced up and met hers. She had the grace to blush over her errant thoughts, but didn't look away. His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to see into her head. Belatedly she realized he likely _was_ , and broke the connection between them. How much had he seen? Surely not much, otherwise he would be throwing her out of the office already. When he said nothing at all, she gathered the rest of the ingredients the potions required and began setting up.

They were both easy enough that she could let her hands go through the motions, leaving her mind to wander. As frustrating as her pondering had been earlier, though, she decided to try and draw him into conversation instead.

"Have you seen Harry since..." she trailed off, realizing that he might not like the memory of a snake nearly ripping his throat out, brought up.

"Since the Shrieking Shack? No."

"I know he would like the opportunity to thank you in person," she ventured, emboldened by the lack of venom in his voice.

"It will be a cold day in hell before I willingly subject myself to Potter's presence. He can keep his false gratitude to himself."

"It's not false gratitude," Hermione reminded him gently. "He has a lot to be thankful to you for. We all do."

"Somehow, I'll manage to go on without his words of appreciation." Sarcasm dripped from every word and he turned away with a sneer.

"I realize that you spent years doing a job that no one could thank you for because no one knew about it. But that's not the case any longer. Why not just accept the gratitude?"

"I did not risk life and limb for the gratitude of those incapable of taking the time to look beyond the surface of my actions."

"And those that did?"

"I would say that the only one who never doubted me is dead, but even Albus had his doubts about me."

"I didn't doubt you."

The look he shot her was pure menace. "If you'd have been in the astronomy tower that night, you would have tried to kill me just as fervently as Potter did," he snarled.

"I can't say what I would have done, and we can't go back to find out. But I believed in you until it was impossible for me not to. And even then I had my reservations about your motivation."

"Didn't think I had the courage to kill my mentor in cold blood?" He snarled the words, his anger snapping the way it did any time someone called him a coward.

"That's not what I said. It was just hard for me to believe that you would turn on the man that had done so much for you. And of course, you didn't."

"No, I did not."

"But I had no way of knowing that at the time. If I'd known that Dumbledore was already dying... my suspicions might have been more firm."

"Am I supposed to be glad that of all the witches and wizards in Great Britain, one lowly student thought that _maybe_ I wasn't a murderer?" He raised a mocking brow. Hermione glowered back at him, frustrated that he was talking her in circles.

"No. I'm not asking for your gratitude. I'm asking you to let me give you mine." When he only looked at her, she smiled a little. "Well, and Harry's, but I doubt you'll take it at this point."

"Quite right, Miss Granger."

"And I don't suppose you would deign to call me Hermione? Now that you're no longer my professor?"

"Don't hold your breath," he drawled in trademark fashion. She nodded, certain she had pushed him as far as she could that day.

"Well I'll-"

"Miss Granger, are you purposely not paying attention to your work?"

"Oh, this?" She looked down at the potions that she'd nearly finished. "I've been paying attention to them. As much as I needed to, that is."

"You find my assignments not worthy of your full concentration?" His tone was arctic and Hermione half expected him to start deducting points, despite knowing that he couldn't.

"Not at all, sir. I mean, yes. Bollocks, what I'm trying to say is that these ones are no trouble."

"Such language," he censured, not sounding at all as if he cared. She blushed anyways.

"Sorry."

"Bring me your useless assignment, then."

"That's not what I-"

"Are you incapable of following the most simple of requests without chattering?" he demanded. Hermione bit her tongue against the retort that threatened to emerge. Instead, she brought both vials over to Snape and let him inspect them. "You are confident enough in this that you would take it yourself, even knowing that an improperly brewed calming drought can send the drinker into shock or a coma?"

"Of course," she snapped. He held out the vial to her and she lifted it to her lips without hesitation. At the last moment, he snatched it back and downed the contents himself. "Wait!" But the liquid was already gone. Sudden doubts sprouted in her mind. Had she added too many ashwinder eggs? Had she stirred three times anti-clockwise, or four?

"Bold enough to risk yourself, but not me? How very... Gryffindor of you."

"If you're meaning that to be an insult, then you'll be disappointed. That's a compliment to me." She stared at him challengingly. "Besides, you wouldn't have taken it if you hadn't watched to make sure I made no mistakes."

"Wouldn't I have?" He kept his expression carefully blank, leaving her to wonder. Truthfully, he _hadn't_ paid attention to her brewing. He'd been thrown off balance from the moment she walked into his office and nothing about the morning had gone the way he expected. His fingers still tingled from where she'd touched his hand. He'd had every intention of not speaking a single word to her. When he'd looked up and used a hint of Legimancy on her, he'd gotten the impression that she wanted to _hug_ him. He'd only gotten a flash of her mind before she looked away, but the image of her arms around him, her cheek resting against his chest, filled his head. It was shocking in more ways than one.

Before he'd been able to set his equilibrium back to rights, she'd brought up Harry fucking Potter and how the boy-who-lived-instead-of-Lily wanted to thank him. As if Severus didn't already know. As if he hadn't gotten owl after owl from Potter, asking to see him. Worse, it seemed as if she was intent on _guilting_ him into accepting her gratitude. Of course, he didn't believe her when she said that she'd believed his innocence until it was impossible not to. He knew for a fact that Potter and Weasley were convinced he was corrupt from the first moment they set foot in the castle. It wasn't possible that she maintained her belief in him with those two filling her head with their prejudice.

But what if she had?

She would be the only one, then. Not even his fellow professors had held out hope for him. Not a single one of them had seen through his guise. During his brief reign as headmaster, even McGonagall, ever watchful, ever observant, had failed to see that he had done everything in his power to protect the students without blowing his cover. Instead of wondering why he assigned so many detentions with Hagrid, or why he spent so much time distracting the Carrows, she'd only seen the atrocities he couldn't prevent. And when the opportunity had presented itself, she'd attacked him.

Knowing that she felt remorse for her actions now made no difference to him. He couldn't even say he was surprised. If she'd been there, he would have expected his own mother to turn on him.

Which was perhaps why a part of himself that he could never quite obliterate, secretly harbored the hope that Hermione _had_ held out belief in him. Was it too much to ask that once, just once, someone hadn't thought the worst of him? If she had been at school during that year, would she have realized the reason behind his actions?

Then she did stupid things like asking him to call her by her given name, and worrying about him drinking a potion she'd been willing to take herself only moments before. Did she not realize how personal a request that was to a man like him? There were people he'd known longer than she'd been _alive_ that he didn't call by first name. That, combined with her instant fear for his safety from the potion, was enough to make him wonder if she wasn't trying to trick him somehow. Play a crude joke on him. Only his confidence that the fear he'd seen in her eyes had been genuine kept him from assuming the worst of her.

The fact that he'd taken the potion at all stemmed from two things. The first was his knowledge that with her considerable abilities, she truly could brew a calming drought correctly even while distracted. The second was that if there was even the slightest chance that she'd made a mistake, he would rather suffer the ill effects himself than have her harmed by it. Stupid, really. If the woman had erred, then she ought to be the one to pay the consequences. But that hadn't been what went through his mind as he'd snatched the potion from his fingers. The only thing he'd thought was _not her_.

"If you truly value your life and health so little, I will be sorely disappointed."

"And why is that?" he demanded, unhappy with the direction his thoughts had taken.

"Because I worked so hard to save it."

Severus sat back in his chair as if he'd received a blow. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing. I had no intention of bringing it up. I just don't like hearing you talk that way."

"Tell me what you mean!" he demanded, reaching for the front of her robes as she started to walk away. Before he could pull her back, Luna skipped into the room, seeming totally oblivious to the tension between them. She had a wreath of flowers in her hands.

Severus released Hermione instantly and tried to bring order to the chaos in his mind as Luna started talking. He barely noticed as she levitated herself up and put something on his head.

"- repel nargals, you know. So I thought it might help with your moods. If you like I can bring one for tomorrow too." She grinned at him and lowered herself to the floor. He took his eyes off of Hermione long enough to glance up at his forehead and realize Lovegood had placed a crown of flowers atop his lank hair. Would his degradation today know no end?

Hermione looked back, burning the image of Snape wearing a wreath of flowers in his hair onto her brain. His face, always so carefully guarded, morphed into an expression of shocked disdain. She couldn't help her laugh as she made her way out of the dungeon.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus managed to get through the next several hours without hunting down the Granger girl and demanding she tell him what she meant. He knew, of course, that someone must have been involved in keeping him alive the night of the final battle. The last thing he remembered was giving Potter his memories, and then he'd woken up in St Mungo's, and was informed he'd been found in a pile of wounded outside the school. The question of _who_ was one he hadn't given much thought to. He knew it wasn't likely that he would ever find out, and if he did, he wasn't sure he would like the answer.

By the afternoon, he simply could not abide the uncertainty. He charmed two rolls of parchment to copy each other and then erase, then sent one to Hermione.

 _This parchment has a two way charm._

 _Explain what you meant when you said you 'worked so hard to save my life.'_

 _SS_

Hermione read the message and scowled. She truly hadn't meant to bring the subject up. Not then, not ever. A man like Severus Snape would loathe being indebted to another, especially for something so grand as saving his life. But hearing him talk to lightly of his health, as if his life meant little to him, angered her. Not just because she had saved him, but because he _deserved_ to live. He'd missed out on nearly half his life dedicating himself to the war and his own personal penance. Now, he had the chance to take those years back. And he wanted to waste the gift he'd been given?

 _I have no wish to discuss the matter. Good day, sir._

 _HG_

Almost instantly, another message appeared.

 _Come back to the dungeons at once._

 _SS_

 _If this is a social invitation, I will gladly accept. If, however, you intend to bring up a subject I have already declared closed, I shall decline with my regrets._

 _HG_

Regrets my arse, Severus thought.

 _Fine. Might you do me the honor of joining me after dinner for a drink in my study?_

 _SS_

Hermione felt her heart start to race. Share a drink with him after dinner? It seemed such an out of character offer from him. Just when she was flitting from possibility to possibility, she realized he likely had very Slytherin intentions.

 _So that you can slip Veratusirum into my drink? I think not. Besides, you should recall better than most that use of Veratusirum on students was once more banned after the school reopened._

 _HG_

 _What I recall is that you are technically no longer a student._

 _What gave my intentions away?_

 _SS_

 _The uncharacteristic offer of a drink was a dead give away, I am sad to say. While I consider you my friend, I know you do not consider me yours. Which makes such an offer seem suspicious to say the least._

 _Would you really have dosed me with Veratusirum?_

 _HG_

 _I have no friends, Miss Granger, so do not feel as though you are being excluded. Friendship is a sham._

 _And of course I would have attempted to get you drunk and trick you into telling me what I want to know before I went so far as to waste such a valuable potion._

 _What will it take to make you willing to explain yourself?_

 _SS_

 _Your views on friendship are very sad, and very untrue. If you would only allow me, I could prove otherwise. Which I am beginning to think would be a very good thing for me, as friends do not get one another drunk to take advantage._

 _Perhaps a friend might be willing to confide in another, though._

 _HG_

 _Take advantage? You make me sound like a lecher. Plying a guest with liquor to loosen their tongue is a practice that has been carried out around the world for centuries._

 _If you think I shall accept your offer of 'friendship' simply to hear this tale, you are mistaken. One night of slurred, insipid conversation may be fair trade, but more than that is usury, pure and simple._

 _SS_

 _I never had any doubts as to your designs upon my purity, sir, of that you can rest assured. While you may be convinced that the rest of the world thinks little of you, I have always known you to have a code of honor of the most rigid nature. Lecherous thoughts about a drunk woman in your care would be beneath you._

 _I have told you that I have no wish to discuss the comment I made in haste, and now regret. It is my desire for both our sake's. Because I consider you a friend, I have no wish to burden you with the tale. If you considered me your friend as well, and I could know that the telling of it would not cause you discomfort, I would eventually be willing. However, as you have now made it abundantly clear that you find the idea of friendship with me disdainful, I believe we are at an impasse._

 _HG_

 _I suppose I should be glad that you at least do not think me a pedophile._

 _Whatever pain you think you will cause me by explaining your comment cannot be worse than what my mind has already conjectured. Perhaps I would be more likely to consider you a 'friend' if you submitted to my request. At the very least, it cannot harm your chances._

 _SS_

 _A pedophile feels or acts on sexual desire for a child. Being that I am nearly twenty, I have no claims on childhood and as such, carnal contact with me while inebriated would merely be distasteful, not criminal._

 _Attempting to turn the tables on me will not work, as I am clever enough to see through your ploy. Is there a way we can meet in the middle? We might be able to see each other outside of school once or twice and then see where things go from there..._

 _HG_

 _Carnal contact with you in_ _ **any**_ _capacity would be distasteful. Of all my vices and deviancy, school girl fantasy has never been among them._

 _As I see it, your 'middle ground' clearly has you at the advantage. If you plan to bargain, I suggest we set more solid terms._

 _SS_

 _First you tell me that my company is unworthy, and now you say that the idea of becoming involved with me physically is distasteful? I fear you have the makings of a poor friend indeed. I shall remind you again that I am no longer a school girl, so you are free to disparage my merit as a sexual partner without bringing our mutual background into the picture. You should know, however, that ladies are seldom willing to share confidences with men who insult them._

 _HG_

 _Will you deist in your talk of sex between us?! Whatever your current status according to the ministry, you were a student in my charge for six years. I am currently tutoring you. Even the innuendo of sex is inappropriate, no matter how alluring and mature you were to be._

 _If your terms of sharing confidence exclude insults, I fear that I shall be forever barred. Insulting is my primary nature. Perhaps a second option is available. I ask again that you name your terms succinctly._

 _SS_

 _Fine. Though I am going to take your comment to mean that you find me alluring and mature, because my ego has been recently tattered by your remarks and I could use the boost._

 _My terms are simple. If the explanation is so important to you, then you must create a situation in which I am comfortable sharing it. I suggest you start with a social visit somewhere outside the school._

 _HG_

 _Hogsmead. Tomorrow after the feast. Will that suffice?_

 _SS_

 _It will. Until then, sir._

 _HG_

Hermione sat back and stared at the parchment, wishing the words weren't rapidly disappearing. If she hadn't known any better, she would think she had been blatantly luring Snape into innuendo! When she thought about it, the idea of Snape in a sexual situation was certainly not repugnant as she might have expected. Was it simply because she'd never considered him a sexual being that she was all at once for the first time realizing just how sensual his voice was? How alluring his hands were? How delicious it would be to find herself wrapped up in his arms?

She knew it was possible that what she felt was simply a childish crush. For a long time, she'd had a crush on Ron. And look how that had turned out. Deliberately, she turned her mind to the thought of sex with Snape. That was where her crush on Ron had derailed. She could easily envision the kissing and cuddling, but between the legs she pictured Ron as sexless as a Ken doll. Snape, though... He had a _penis_ , she reminded herself. Severus Snape had a cock between his legs. Under all those buttons and yards of black fabric was a body that sweated and lusted. Instead of the stripped Ken she'd pictured Ron as, the nude Snape in her mind's eye had _all_ of his equipment. The sight she imagined wasn't distasteful in the least.

She was already moving to second base with her imaginary Snape before she recalled that he'd said the idea of sex with _her_ would be distasteful. Suddenly the Snape in her mind was fully dressed and sneering at her. _As if I would ever lust after you,_ he seemed to say with his snarl. She flinched back from the implied insult and was grateful that the flesh and blood man wasn't there to see her dismay.

He seemed more hung up on the idea that she'd once been his student than anything else. And perhaps years ago, a relationship between a student and professor might have been forbidden. But with the wizarding population so thinned, Hermione knew for a fact that a coupling between a former student and retired professor would be met with nothing but encouragement. Even if people were confused by the match.

Hermione herself was confused at the direction her thoughts had taken. Her intention when she'd come back to the castle had _not_ been to seduce Snape. Attempt to work herself into his life, yes; get him to accept her gratitude, yes; see to it personally that he was finally happy, yes. But getting into the man's pants had never even crossed her mind. After all, he wasn't handsome like Lockheart had been. He wasn't charming the way Lupin had been. Despite his dark demeanor, he didn't even exude the 'bad boy' persona that Sirius had. On the surface, Snape didn't have much going by way of traits to attract a woman.

Hermione had never been superficial, though. What she saw was the man under the outer layer. Every time she discovered something new about him, it added to his appeal. Not only was he brilliant, courageous, loyal... But she also found herself drawn to other parts of him as well. His hands were firm and sure. He was tall, but not looming. She'd seen first hand that he was immensely strong, despite how lean he was. And his voice...

Merlin's balls, that man could talk her into an orgasm any day of the week.

So, she summarized, she was attracted to Snape. What was she supposed to do with the knowledge? The idea of getting him to take her to bed sent a pulse of pleasure between her legs. Somehow, though, she didn't think he would be keen on the idea. Not only had he just spent several minutes enumerating on the many reasons he thought her an unsuitable choice for a dalliance, but she also wasn't sure what his current state was – as far as women were concerned. Did he have a woman he was already seeing? If so, then she was a daft cow to not make him realize that he was cherished. Perhaps he was celibate. It seemed a logical conclusion to the puzzle of twenty years spent teaching and preserving the memory of his childhood romance.

If he _was_ celibate, was he willingly so? Or was that simply the hand of cards that fate had dealt him? And if the latter, could she change that?

Despite what he'd written, she wondered if it wasn't just possible...


	4. Chapter 4

Severus paced the small office furiously. What the hell had be been thinking? He'd been a fool to even send her the parchment. He ought to have just cornered her after their next tutoring session and demanded his explanations then. It was always easier to converse informally via writing. Certainly the subject of any sexual activity between them would never have come up in a face to face conversation.

Now, though, he couldn't stop thinking about the various things she'd implied. Despite his best efforts to steer their discussion away from it, she had continually brought it back to the idea of sex between them. Regardless of his firm resolve for it not to, his mind immediately filled with creative images, sounds, and sensations of them in bed. Or over the desk. Merlin, he was a sick bastard. The girl was half his age. _And_ a student. Former student. Whatever the fuck she was. Either way, it was absolutely inappropriate to be having sexual thoughts about her.

And yet, the image of fucking her over his desk was burning into his brain and quickly developing into a full fledged fantasy.

He growled at his imagination's wild flight and forced himself to focus. Their banter notwithstanding, there was no way that Hermione Granger actually wanted to sleep with him. And even if she did, there was no way he could allow it to happen.

Rather than think about things that would never occur, he turned his mind to their plan to visit the village tomorrow and how he might go about wheedling the information he wanted out of her. During school trips, he despised Hogsmead. It was overrun with spoiled children who were determined to run out a month's worth of tomfoolery in a single afternoon. Any other time, though, it was a rather lovely little place to visit. He wouldn't take her to the Three Broomsticks. Too dirty, too common. The Vanishing Hare, perhaps? They could drink something more sophisticated than butterbeer, and it would be quiet enough to have a real conversation. Then he could guilt, bribe, or deceive her into telling him what he wanted to know.

What part had she played in his survival? How had he managed to recover from Nagini's attack- and with barely more than a splintering silver scar to show for it? When had he ended up among the wounded? Had she known of his innocence when she aided him?

The obvious answer to the last question was yes. If she'd still thought him a murderer, why would she have bothered? But how long had it taken Potter to go back to the school, view his memories, and relay the information back to Granger? Surely he would have been beyond the power of even the strongest potion or healing spell by then...

It was maddening to have such a vital piece of one's own life missing from memory!

But soon, very soon he would have answers. Face to face, she didn't stand a chance of evading his questions. The truth would come out, and then he could go back to his carefully crafted cocoon of indifference to her. And the dangerously sexual visions dancing behind his eye lids would vanish.

Right?

 _Right_.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Severus pinned Hermione to the narrow cot and kissed her savagely. His tongue swept into her mouth and gave no quarter. One hand kept her wrists shackled together over her head, while the other ripped open her blouse and shucked up her skirt. She was thrashing beneath him, but she said no words and he couldn't be sure if she was writhing in pleasure or trying to throw him off her. He didn't care which it was. One finger thrust into her and found tight, wet heat. His cock throbbed in anticipation. Hastily, he unfastened the placket of his trousers and lined his erection up with the opening of her sex.

"Tell me to stop," he demanded at the last minute. "Tell me to stop!" Given the reprieve, he fully expected her to scream at him to get off her. Instead, she looked up at him with blazing eyes.

"No."

With an involuntary groan, Severus slammed into her, tensing and twitching at the way she felt around him as well as the sight of her breasts bouncing from the onslaught. He shoved both knees up to her shoulders and fucked her hard. The springs of the small bed creaked ominously beneath them but he didn't care if the cot fell through the goddamn floor. All he cared about was riding the pretty little witch beneath him till neither of them could stand. He was close, so close...

Severus woke up and realized to his disgust that he was humping his mattress. He stopped immediately and gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his cock. To remove the temptation of spilling on his sheets like a firstie, he rolled over, throwing his forearm over his eyes as if that could shut out the image of Hermione naked beneath him. Even the pressure of the light blanket on him was sending tingles through him, so he tossed it aside. What the hell was the matter with him?

He'd taught many pretty girls in his time as a professor. A few of them had lacked anything resembling modesty. Once, he'd caught such a girl sunbathing nude on the roof of the Astronomy tower. And yet he'd never had a single lustful thought or sexual dream about any one of them. Oh, there had been times he'd thought about taking a girl over his knee, but to satisfy his anger, not his libido. The heaving cleavage or rouged face of even the most developed seventh year had never woken fantasy in him.

So why did Hermione?

Was it just the conversation they'd had the other day that had put his mind on sex? Was it that nearly a decade of being hard up for it had caught up with him? It occurred to him that it might be just how _different_ she was from the overtly sexual young women that other men might lust after. She kept her body modestly covered, though he'd seen enough of her to know she had alluring curves. Somewhere along the way she'd learned to apply cosmetics to herself, but far from the silver shadows and clown crimson lipsticks that her counterparts favored, Hermione only darkened her lashes and wore some kind of shiny lip balm. Perhaps the most appealing thing about her, was her mind. She was brilliant, that had always been true. But in the short time he'd known her after the war, he could see she'd become more poised, more reserved, more focused, more calculating. Individually, there were many students he'd taught who had those traits. None before her had them all together contained in a wild-haired little package.

Severus lifted his arm from his eyes and looked down at his naked body appraisingly. He was certainly no beauty. His limbs were long and well formed, the muscle beneath his skin firm. But the aforementioned skin was ghostly pale. Lying flat on his back as he was, his stomach dipped in even more than usual, making him look freakishly slender. Fine black hairs scattered across his chest, disappeared from his sternum down to his navel, and then grew in a slim line down to his groin. He studied his stubborn erection, trying to see it the way a woman would. It wasn't alarmingly large, but it was not small by any means. None of the few women he'd been with had complained, at least. It had a rather pronounced curve, and he knew enough about female anatomy to know that the curve worked in his favor. Despite being uncircumcised, the head was bare when he was erect. Against his better judgment, he gripped himself and stroked once. The organ jumped in his hand as if surprised at the attention.

On reflection, he decided that the male genitalia were rather ugly. A woman's sex...now that was a different matter all together. Everything neatly tucked away inside them, hidden in petals that needed to be parted coaxingly to reveal their secrets. He shuddered and released his cock lest he get too excited. Despite his disinterest in masculine anatomy, overall his own was not unsavory. The hair that grew on his pelvis was neither unruly nor unkempt. In fact, he would go so far as to say that if he could transplant that part of himself onto a more burly body, the whole package might just be appealing.

It wasn't that he was self conscious about his appearance. Yes, he was perhaps too lanky to be considered graceful, his features too sharp to be handsome, his imperfections too many for him to be thought unblemished. But there was no one alive who's opinion he cared about. So what did it matter if he was far beneath the societal standards of beauty?

Except that now he found himself wondering what Hermione would think of his body. Surely she would be repulsed by it. He knew she had briefly dated Weasley, and the two of them couldn't be more opposite. Though Severus was only two inches shorter than the boy, where Ronald was burly, Severus was slim. Where he was tan, Severus was pale. Where her ex was undoubtedly coated in a coarse ginger pelt, Severus had only his small amount of fine black hair. If Weasley was a prime example of her taste in men, then there wasn't a single thing she would find appealing about Severus.

Not that it mattered.

He rose from the bed and began to dress mechanically, studiously ignoring the erection that refused to abate. It wasn't as if she would ever _see_ his body, let alone have opportunity to voice an opinion on it. Besides, it had served him well through his years as a spy and a soldier. Surely it deserved some credit for that. He buttoned the placket of his trousers over his cock and trapped the tip firmly against his waistband. Thankfully, his long robes would hide any lingering evidence of his arousal.

By the time he was finished with the last button of his ensemble, he was resolved to put the Granger girl firmly from his mind. He would will his body into compliance. He would refrain from thinking of the dream he'd had about her. He would _not_ fantasize about any sexual acts with her. He would treat her with the same formal disdain he had for the last six years.

And that resolve lasted him all the way till breakfast, when he spotted her at the Gryffindor table licking marmalade from the pad of her thumb. He was instantly hard again and his mind filled with a thousand ways marmalade could be used for sex. With effort, he swallowed down the mouth full of pumpkin juice he'd nearly choked on and kept his features carefully schooled. A thunderous glare crept across his brow. He desperately resented being attracted to her. Having his body hijacked by desires for her. His mind being muddied with thoughts of her.

If he admired her any more, he would begin to hate the woman.

Hermione turned her gaze to the head table, eyes unerringly drawn to Snape. To her surprise, he was glowering at her. She had to force herself not to flinch. Was he still angry about their exchange the night before? She'd been so bold in her talk of sex... much moreso than she ever could have been face to face with him. Had she offended him? Or perhaps he resented being practically blackmailed for the story of how he'd survived.

The more she'd thought about the incident, the more she began to wonder if she _shouldn't_ just tell him the truth. Yes, he would likely chafe at the idea of being indebted to her, but he probably already felt that way thanks to her big mouth. Perhaps telling him what had happened would ease his worry over the ordeal. She honestly did not expect or want his thanks. She could convey her tale and assure him that he needn't feel any obligation to her at all, and they could put the matter behind them. The night before, she'd been thinking that if she could at least get him to see her socially, she could ease him into accepting her friendship. After all, it had to be easier to hear that a friend had helped you out, rather than an annoying little swot you actively avoided.

Now, though, she began to wonder if her motives weren't more selfish. Yes, she did want to make him understand that she wanted no praise for her part in saving him, but she also wanted to succeed in her mission to know him better and become a part of his life. In an abstract way, they were very much the same. If he could just take long enough to see it, he might decide to one day be her friend. But withholding the truth from him simply to get what she wanted seemed decidedly Slytherin. No, she would have to tell him what had happened, and soon. Their excursion to Hogsmead after the evening feast would be the perfect opportunity. And she would apologize for her behavior, too. Refusing to tell him what happened as well as being so bold about personal matters.

Still, she couldn't help but remind herself that he'd gone along with the banter. Though he'd eventually put a stop to it, for a while he'd actively participated. Clearly he was capable of friendly informality through the written word. Was it possible that, like herself, he found conversing through writing more liberating? It was a hypothesis she intended to test out as soon as she was able.

After her morning tutoring session with Professor Flitwick- who'd genially asked her to call him Filius- Hermione pulled the charmed two way parchment from her bag.

 _Where should I meet you this evening?_

 _HG_

She waited impatiently, half worried he would have destroyed his end of the paper specifically to prevent further communication. And even if he hadn't, it might be hours till he looked at it. Much to her surprise and pleasure, though, a reply appeared only moments later.

 _I will be waiting by the One Eyed Witch statue at precisely seven o'clock. From there, we can make our way off the castle grounds and apparate to the village, or we can go by foot if you would prefer to walk._

 _SS_

 _I wouldn't mind the walk, if you are amenable. Professor Trelawney insists the fine weather will hold out for another week, and while I normally put as much faith in her predictions as a broken wand, it does seem as if she will be correct in this one regard at least._

 _HG_

 _Trelawney's oft ill-fated predictions aside, I would not have offered had I not been willing. Wear something decent, as we will be going somewhere decidedly more formal than the Three Broomsticks._

 _SS_

 _Decent? When have you known me to wear anything_ in _decent?_

 _HG_

 _I was not accusing you of having dressed like a trollop at any point in the past, as you damn well know. It would, however, behoove you to wear something other than muggle trews and a jumper. You are, of course, welcome to wear whatever you like. But do not expect me to sit at the same table as you if you show up looking like you've been camping in the Forest of Dean._

 _SS_

 _Such language, Professor._

 _HG_

 _Also, how would you know how I dress for camping in the Forest of Dean?_

 _HG_

 _I am no longer a professor, as you have taken such joy in reminding me. Hence, I am free to use whatever foul vernacular I wish._

 _Did your bespectacled friend not explain to you how he received the sword of Gryffindor?_

 _SS_

 _By all means, curse to your heart's content. Perhaps my own foul tongue won't offend you then. And what do you suggest I call you, then, since Professor is out of the question? Mr Snape? Lord Snape? Half-Blood Prince? I assume with your own reticence to use my first name, Severus is out of the question..._

 _No, Harry did not mention you having anything to do with him getting the sword. At the time, he said a stag led him to a pond with the sword at the bottom of it. But Ron had just come back, and to be honest, I didn't give it's sudden appearance as much thought as I should have._

 _HG_

 _Sir or Snape will suffice, Miss Granger. My mother may have come from noble blood but I am no more a Lord than you are a kneazle. As for your foul tongue, well we shall just have to wait and see..._

 _It was a_ _ **doe**_ _not a stag. My patronus led him to the pond where_ I _had placed the sword. Your wards were more than sufficient, but they did not keep me from seeing you dressed in your rather tattered muggle clothing. I do hope you burned those items instead of keeping them for further use._

 _SS_

Hermione sat back in her chair, shocked. _Snape_ had given them the sword? It made perfect sense, of course. He had been headmaster at the time. He was the only one who could have done it. But the idea had simply never occurred to her. Had he been keeping track of them the whole time they were on the run? If she knew him at all, it was likely that he'd been helping them as well. Suddenly she was suffused with another bout of guilt and gratitude. She owed the man her life more times over than she could count.

It only made her resolve to get him to open up to her, to let her into his life, more firm.

 _Well then,_ sir _, I will do my best not to slip up. I make no guarantees, though._

 _In hindsight, your having placed the sword for us to find makes perfect sense. Yet another thing that I haven't had the opportunity to thank you for._

 _I did not burn my clothes, though I will admit that I didn't keep them when we returned. I would think that even you would be unable to keep up an impeccable appearance living out of a tent for months at a time, though._

 _Just how formal would you suggest my attire be?_

 _HG_

 _I did not bring up the issue to fish for gratitude, so I suggest you keep your thanks to yourself. While I might have opted for slightly more practical clothing, I of course, would not have been nearly so disheveled. I have been on the run many times and never looked so ragged. But I suppose not everyone can be as composed as I._

 _The bit of blue fluff you wore to the Yule ball would be too formal, your school robes not formal enough. I leave the finding of a middle ground to your discretion._

 _SS_

 _You remember the dress I wore to the Yule ball?_

 _HG_

 _I have a long and diverse memory._

 _SS_

 _One that includes my wardrobe choices on more than one occasion, I see. I wonder what I should make of that..._

 _HG_

 _I was under the impression that we had already laid to rest any accusations of pedophilia. Being able to recall even the most trivial seeming of details was a necessity in my life for years. Do not delude yourself into thinking any more of it._

 _SS_

 _Why do you always assume that I am thinking the worst of you? Can I not be flattered that someone in my life bothered to remember how I looked on an occasion that I put so much effort into my appearance without it being a sinister accusation?_

 _HG_

 _Perhaps this once I was hasty in my judgment of your meaning. I have spent the bulk of my life having the worst suspected of me. It is ingrained in me to expect it._

 _SS_

 _Not from me._

 _HG_

 _No, perhaps you are the exception. I will strive to remember that._

 _SS_

 _With your exceptional memory, I doubt you will have any trouble._

 _HG_

 _Sarcasm, Miss Granger?_

 _SS_

 _The more you get to know me, the more you will find that sarcasm is my most ready form of wit._

 _HG_

 _An interesting prospect, to be sure. Until this evening, Miss Granger._

 _SS_

Severus rolled up the parchment and realized he was smiling. He frowned immediately. It hadn't been a big smile, but his lips had been curled up in pleasure from their exchange. Aside from their small misunderstanding about her clothing, he had enjoyed writing to her immensely. It was liberating to be able to express his thoughts to her on paper. Though years of teaching had made him loquacious, he was still so much better at conveying his true sentiments in writing. The only problem was that he found himself being perhaps a little _too_ much himself with her.

He hadn't intended to admit that he recalled her dress from the Yule ball, though he had been honest when he told her that he'd had no lascivious thoughts about it. Rather, it had been the surprise that had fused the image into his memory. For four years she had been the bushy haired, buck toothed, impudent little girl who vexed him to no end. But that night she had set aside her higher priority of academia in favor of focusing on her appearance. The wild mane had been tamed, her teeth spelled to a reasonable size, and her shapely form encased in a modest but exceptionally becoming gown. She was the very image of a burgeoning young lady.

Each year brought Severus another batch of fresh faces, and brought old ones back to him a little older. They seemed to come more quickly the older he got. At thirty four, he'd felt ancient that year. Seeing Hermione like that had only intensified the feeling. He'd reminded himself that the girl was nearly a year older than her classmates, and that with how long it had taken her to come into her own, it only made sense that she would do so practically overnight.

And so, he could play the memory in his mind with crystal clarity. Her walking in on the arm of Viktor Krum. Potter's shock. Weasley's bitter jealousy. He snickered a little as he recalled the bet he'd won that night over the two of them. It was obvious to most of the staff that they fancied each other, even then. Weasley had been so oblivious to it that it could have bitten him on the arse and he would barely have felt the pain. What had started out as one offhand comment about the likelihood of romance blossoming had quickly turned into a betting pool. Flitwick, ever the romantic, was convinced Ron would make up his mind and ask her to the ball. McGonagall expected he would be clueless until he saw Hermione on another boy's arm and make his move before the night was out. Hooch and Trewlany put their bets with Flitwick, Pomfrey put her money with McGonagall. Only Severus said that the boy was too much of a nitwit to realize it at all. His confidence in Weasley's dubious intelligence and skills of observation had earned him a galleon apiece from his coworkers.

He'd used his winnings to buy a very fine bottle of whiskey and toasted the boy's idiocy.

Taking the time to think back brought him some measure of comfort about his developing- what was it, camaraderie? Acquaintanceship?- with Hermione. It reminded him yet again that despite whatever fantasies his depraved mind were coming up with now, he'd never had designs upon her as a child. The only reason he'd felt a frisson of satisfaction that she hadn't started dating her future beau was that it would have been a shame to have her considerable focus shifted from her school work to the insipid nuance of teenage romance.

Despite the relief he took from that, he still loathed the idea of being attracted to her as a young adult. She was too fresh from being his student, too innocent in the ways of the world, too much temptation for a man as selfish as he. During the course of his tutoring sessions that afternoon, he began to wonder if taking her for a drink after the feast was prudent. His mind still refused to bend to his will in the matter of eradicating the fantasies of her. While he itched to know her part in the saving of his life, he couldn't help but fear that he was setting himself up for many more nights like the last one.

By the time dinner was done, he'd changed his mind back and forth about the idea a dozen times. He hated indecision. He hated uncertainty. Most of all, he hated how weak willed he felt when it came to her. His temper was foul as he changed out of his teaching robes and into a more formal frock coat and cloak. Determined to be so cruel to her that it would obliterate any hope she had of getting close to him and finally bring his errant concupiscence to heel, he stalked towards their meeting place, cloak billowing behind him.

He rounded the corner, his eyes fell on Hermione, and for one full moment, he froze completely.

She was wearing a dress the same honey color as her eyes. It had capped sleeves, a modest square neckline, fitted waist, and then flowed loosely to just above the floor. With her hair pinned back at the nape of her neck and tendrils already escaping to frame her face, she looked...like a goddess. Severus swallowed and realized suddenly that his mouth was dry. Before he could completely school his features, she looked up. She graced him with a smile of utter happiness. He felt it the way snow feels the sunshine.

When he only stood there, half dazed, she became hesitant. Her smile faded to uncertainty and she picked at the edge of the beaded bag looped on her wrist that had obviously been spelled to match her dress.

"It's too much, isn't it? Or not enough? I have heels I could go put on-"

"You look-" Severus cleared his throat to cover the crack he'd nearly voiced. "You look fine, I'm sure." He tugged slightly at his cravat, feeling suddenly as if it was too tight. Her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment, sparking vivid images in Severus' mind, and then her smile returned.

"As you're not prone to idle flattery, I'll take that to mean that I made the right choice. I'm not surprised to see that you've chosen your usual ensemble."

"Hardly. This is a formal vest and coat. Not at all like my school robes."

"Oh, I see," Hermione said in mock seriousness, obviously not seeing at all what he meant. She studied him closely enough that he began to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Then she tapped her wand against the buttons of his waist coat. The two small buttons that showed above the lapel of his jacket turned the same gold color as her dress. Such a subtle change, except now it looked as if they'd dressed to match one another. "There. Shall we?"

Severus nodded, resisting the urge to offer her his arm as they walked. The path to the village was even and smooth, and she required no assistance. Taking her arm would have been solely for his pleasure and he refused to give into the temptation. The sun was setting, giving the horizon a breathtaking rosy glow. As predicted, the temperature stayed pleasant.

"How was your day?"

"Spent locked in coerced confinement with tedious teenagers."

"Such alliteration." Hermione glanced up at him. "Is tutoring really so bad?"

"Doing anything contrary to one's wishes is unpleasant. Having it be the thing from which you were so certain you were free, is even more so. The only commendation I can lend it is that for once, I am only teaching those that truly wish to learn. Inept as they are, that desire lessens the chafing somewhat."

"Has that been the only benefit of returning to tutor?"

Severus cut a sharp look to Hermione. "Fishing for compliments, Miss Granger? How uncouth." She had the grace to blush.

"Maybe I'm simply trying to ascertain if you feel my sudden reappearance in your life is a blessing or a burden." She fidgeted with the bag again.

"And you think you'll find the answer in there?"

"What?" She realized what she was doing and let the bag hand loose from her hand. "No, just a nervous tic. It's a habit I'm trying to break, actually. Just can't seem to kick it yet."

"Nervous fiddling?" Severus raised a brow.

"Having it with me," she explained, raising the bag. He suddenly recognized it as the purple bag she'd carried while the trio had been hunting horcruxes. "It's been a sort of compulsion since the war. I know everything I need to survive is inside. When I don't have it, I feel..."

"Vulnerable." He turned his face away, understanding and distaste warring in his expression.

"Exactly. It's silly, I know. The war is over. Voldemort is dead, and he isn't coming back. There isn't any reason I would need to run at a moment's notice. But I still end up carrying it. I actually left it back in my room at first. Made it half way to the statue before I had to run back and get it."

Snape made a humming sound in response but did not say anything. What should he say? That he found her lack of control disdainful? That it made his chest feel tight to know that she never felt secure enough to leave her bag behind? That he simultaneously wanted to push her away and pull her close? The teacher in him, the spy in him, sneered at the idea of such weakness. But the man in him only wanted to hold her until she felt safe enough to let go. His face shuttered at the asinine thought and he berated himself.

Just when his silence would have become stifling, they entered the village. People were bustling about, moving between the pubs and shops. They cut an easy path through the throng, Severus' glower keeping the crowd well out of their way. He led her to the door of the Vanishing Hare and then held it open and ushered her inside.

A garson waited just in the entrance to greet them. With a slight bow, he took them to a private table and brought a waiter to their side before returning to his post. Without giving Hermione a chance to look at their selection, Severus ordered them a bottle of sweet wine laced with cherry liqueur. He felt no qualms about attempting to get her drunk enough to spill her secrets. The waiter brought back the bottle quickly, poured them both a glass, then left the bottle to breathe on the table.

"So, is this what you wanted Miss Granger?" He sipped his wine slowly, savoring the flavour on his tongue although it was sweeter than what he usually preferred.

"If you mean the wine, then absolutely. I've never had anything quite like it. If you mean the company, then I can't say this was exactly what I'd envisioned, but I won't complain."

"Let me guess, you saw us sharing a butterbeer under Rosemirta's busybody nose?" He curled his lip in disdain. She only laughed.

"To be honest, yes. Though now that I think about it, I have a hard time seeing you drinking butterbeer."

"With good reason," he agreed. A silence fell between them as Hermione thought about how to bring up her apology.

"Sir..."

"Yes?" He smothered his smile of satisfaction as she took a hearty swallow of the strong wine.

"I wanted to thank you again. And apologize."

"I already told you that I didn't want your thanks," he growled, scowling.

"Well you're going to get it anyways. It seems like I'm constantly discovering new things that I owe you my gratitude for. You've been looking out for us, protecting us, for a long time. You kept me safe. And before you say something about doing what Dumbledore asked of you, let me remind you that your job was to keep _Harry_ alive. I wasn't necessary to Dumbledore's endgame. You did that because I was his friend and I was in danger. And I can never truly pay you back for that."

"If what you insinuated yesterday means what I think it does, then you already have."

"No." She shook her head. "It's not the same at all. And while we're on the topic of yesterday, I wanted to say I'm sorry if I sounded crass, when we were writing." She blushed again and took another drink to keep from fidgeting. Severus angled his head slightly, waiting. "Despite my confidence, I don't usually bring sex up in conversation so easily. I just find myself much more liberal when writing. Bolder than I would normally be."

"As much as I would like to ridicule you for that, I cannot. I will admit that I share a similar trait. While that subject is completely inappropriate between us, I also found it easier to bear in script instead of face to face. Your apology is accepted."

Hermione smiled at him again, the sunshine on snow smile. He took another drink to keep himself from involuntarily returning the gesture. "Now that we've dispensed with the formalities, are you willing to broach the topic of my near death?"

"Yes. You were right. I realized last night that you have a right to know. I thought I was being considerate in keeping it from you, but at this point, it just seems cruel." She brushed a stray curl back from her face and bit her lip again. With his glass, Severus made a 'go on' gesture. "After the attack, after you gave Harry your memories, we...left." She shifted, uncomfortable revealing that they'd abandoned his body in the shack. "Back at the castle, there was chaos everywhere. Fred had been killed and the Weasley's were all in so much shock and pain... Harry couldn't bear it. He went right to Dumbledore's office. I didn't even see him go. And Ron, he was just lost. Seeing Fred laid out like that was bad enough, but seeing George bent over him- it was more than I could take. Desipte all we'd been through together, I felt like a voyeur to their pain. I didn't lose any family in the battle. My parents are safe in Australia with no memory that Voldemort even existed.

I was just so angry." She clenched her fist at the memory. "So much senseless death. Even you. I wasn't bitter about your supposed betrayal. I was angry that Voldemort would cut you down so easily to get what he wanted. That you'd been sucked into that viper's nest. And for what? The idea of pureblood supremacy? You didn't believe in that. For Voldemort's bid for power? His desire for immortality? Why should you pay the price for those? Why should any of them?

The idea of you being left there, forgotten, felt so wrong to me. So I went back, and when I found you, you were still alive. Just barely. You weren't breathing and your heart had nearly stopped. I had the potion in my bag... Angel's Trumpet. You were the one who taught me to brew it." She smiled a little, paused and took another drink. "And Harry helped too. I never would have known, never would have thought to, but he'd taught me to put a little on the outside of the wound before drinking it. It worked so well with healing droughts that I did it with the gash on your neck-" the memory overcame her for a moment and she stopped. She was obviously distressed. Before he could think better of it, Severus reached over and patted her hand awkwardly. The enormity of that small gesture coming from him wasn't lost on her. She flashed him a grateful smile and continued her tale. "I let some of the potion fall into the wound and then poured the rest down your throat. I could see that it was working immediately because your neck started to heal. I kept checking your pulse and it seemed like there wasn't any change for too long, but then it started to come back. And I thought you would start breathing at any moment, until I realized that if you went much longer you'd go brain dead from lack of oxygen. So I gave you CPR."

Severus' hand rose to his mouth before Hermione could ask if he knew what she meant. To the best of her knowledge, there was no such first aid training in the wizarding world. But his father had been a muggle, and he'd likely heard of it before. His fingers traced his lips as if trying to recapture the feel of hers. "And then you came back." She left out the seemingly endless moments when she was sure she'd failed. When she practically beat against his chest, tears falling uselessly down her cheeks. How cold his lips had felt against hers as she fought desperately to save the life of a man she was sure hated her. "So I brought you out to the castle grounds where they were gathering the wounded to be transported to St Mungos. I assumed the Aurors would find you once you'd been treated further, and things would get sorted out. It wasn't until later that Harry told us what he'd learned. I couldn't believe that I'd just left you there, like so much refuse. You have no idea how much I hated myself for that. But there wasn't any way I could go back to change it. And I didn't see you again until I came here. The only news I had about you was from the rubbish newspaper about your recovery and from Harry about your trial."

She finished and downed the rest of her wine, feeling warm and slightly tingly. The outbursts from him that she'd been waiting for hadn't come. He was merely staring at her, shock twisting his face into a mask of clear disbelief.

If he wasn't living, breathing evidence of the truth of her story, Severus wouldn't have believed it. She'd come back to him _before_ knowing he'd been working for Dumbledore all along? Her casual assurance that he didn't believe the pureblood bigotry, her determination to save a man anyone else would have spat on, her efforts in preserving his life... They left him speechless. Angel's Trumpet was one of the world's strongest healing potions. The fact that she'd used it on _him_ felt almost like sacrilege. There were surely others more deserving. And the fact that she'd only know to administer it externally as well as internally because of _Potter_ grated on his every nerve.

The image of her bent over him, her lips pressed to his as she used her very breath to bring him back from the brink, overwhelmed his senses. He could see it so clearly, could practically feel her mouth moving desperately on his. She had forced his lungs to expand and contract, urged on the sluggish beats of his heart, dragged him away from death's cold embrace- and still she felt guilt that she'd left him with the injured instead of seeing to the rest of his healing herself.

He shook his head slowly, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what all this meant to him.

"I didn't want you to find out," she broke into his introspection. "Not because I was ashamed at all, but because I thought the idea of someone you hated saving your life would appall you. After Harry told me the story of what his dad and Sirius did to you, I was even more sure. But of course I let my big mouth get away from me when you took that potion because I couldn't stand the thought of you not caring if you lived or died..."

"I didn't hate you," he said softly, watching her hands as they rolled and unrolled the edge of her bag.

"What?" She looked up at him, not certain she'd heard him correctly. Suddenly aware of just how bare he felt, Severus retreated behind his wall of indifference. He straightened, stiffened, his whole countenance distancing from her.

"I do not hate you, Miss Granger. I never have. You may have annoyed me to no end in my class, but any particular venom you felt was merely the necessary act to play my part. The fact that it was you, and not someone else, is more relief than burden. Twice, fate has led me to almost die in that miserable shack, and twice I have been spared. But the similarities end there." His face hardened at the mention of the 'trick' that had been played on him. "You didn't come after me merely to save your own hide. By all rights, you should have left me there to rot. But you didn't. And whatever I feel about my life now, I must owe you my gratitude for the ability to _have_ an opinion on it still."

"No, you don't! Don't you see? You saved my life so many times before that! Even if it hadn't turned out that you were working for the Order all along, you still deserved some repayment for all the times you saved me. It was one small act in the face of dozens!"

"Lower your voice," he growled at her, realizing they were drawing attention to themselves. She stopped and covered her mouth. Keeping his expression carefully blank, he started to pour her another glass of wine. On second thought, he stopped at half a glass. It was clear the strong liquor had already affected her. "I was doing my _job_ when I looked after you and your friends. As your teacher and as a member of the Order. You were under no such obligations to me. In your position, anyone else would have kicked my corpse and thought it only fitting. Do not-" he raised his hand to stop her when she started to speak, "try and argue with me. The facts are as they are. I can see why you thought, in your endless benevolence, that keeping this from me was the more merciful course of action. Still, I am glad I know the truth now. Despite what I may wish, I already know that this is a debt I will not be able to repay and I will not waste either of our time making foolish declarations to do so. Simply allow me to convey my sincerest thanks, and we will let the matter rest between us."

Inhibitions lowered, Hermione reached across the table and took one of his strong, lean hands in both of her own. "I'm glad," she whispered.

"What for?" he asked, voice rough. Her hands were warm and soft, her fingers beginning to trace small, maddening circles against his skin.

"That you're alive. That you're not upset I'm the one who saved you. That I've got this chance to be in your life again."

For a long time, Severus only watched her. He felt swamped by emotions he couldn't define. The urge to snatch his hand back from her hold was only dominated by the desire to let her continue to touch him, to allow himself to take pleasure in the contact. It was such a simple thing, really. Not even a gesture of intimacy in and of itself. But between them, it _felt_ intimate. Had he ever just held hands with a woman? He couldn't recall a single time that he had.

"What do you want from me?" The whispered question slipped past his lips before he could stop it. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed with the alcohol, eyes bright with emotion.

"To be your friend. To try and give you some measure of peace."

He frowned and drew his hand away from hers. "I can make my own peace if I so desire. That responsibility is not yours."

"Why do you always have to be alone?"

He raised one shoulder and gave a sardonic twist of his lips. "It is as it has ever been. Perhaps solitude is merely my fate."

"The only fate I believe in is the one we make for ourselves."

"Then you'd be a fool to willingly intertwine your fate with mine."

She grinned suddenly, taking a drink of her wine and laughing. "I've been called worse."

"If I recall, I voiced several of those insults myself." He fought to keep from responding to her joviality.

"Some of them," she agreed. "But nothing I can't handle."

"Masochism, Miss Granger?" One raven brow lifted. She laughed again.

"Oh no, I never go further than light bondage." Instantly her hand flew up to her mouth and the flush that had lingered on her cheeks turned scarlet. Only her obvious shock kept Severus' eyes from popping wide. "I can't believe I just said that. I... I think I'm nearly drunk! I haven't even had two glasses of wine. I'm not normally so-" she stopped, narrowing her eyes as if in sudden realization and snatched the bottle to inspect. When she read the label, she gasped and glared up at him. "You were trying to get me drunk!"

"I warned you as much. Though I will admit I hadn't counted on quite so much honesty when I planned to loosen your tongue." He smirked at her, covering for just how titillating her revelation had been to him.

"You, sir, are a rake!" She put her face in her hands for a moment. Just when Severus began to wonder if things had gone too far and he'd truly hurt her, she raised her head and glowered at him with mocking severity. "You know that I'll have to get you back for this, don't you?"

"Threats, Miss Granger?" He snorted derisively. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Good." The smile she gave him reminded him eerily of a shark's. "Then you'll be all the more taken aback when I get my revenge."

"I'd like to see you try," he challenged.

"Is that so?" She leaned up on her elbows, then crooked a finger at him, beckoning him to do the same. After a pause, he complied. Their faces were only inches apart. She waited one baited breath, then snatched a handful of his cravat and yanked him forward the small distance separating them. "Be careful what you wish for," she whispered. Then kissed him hard and fast. When he gasped in shock, her tongue made the briefest of forays between his lips before she released him and stood up. "I have to go powder my nose," she declared smugly. Her sauntering exit was only inhibited by a slight waver in her step as the liquor reached her head.

 _Fucking hell_ was all Severus could think.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A few quick notes... First, thank you to my guest reviewer that pointed out my miscalculation of kilos/pounds to stones. As I had them listed in chapter one, our beloved characters were woefully underweight! It has been fixed, and now they can move forward no longer emaciated haha!**_

 _ **Second, a few of you may have noticed, but there are one or two veiled references to popular HP Tumblr posts in this story, just for funseys. No one has asked me about my shoelaces yet, but I thought I'd mention it just the same ; )**_

 ** _And last but not least, sorry for the gap between the last chapter and this one. I'll be trying to post a chapter a day this weekend. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews you've left me. They make my day! Happy reading!  
_**

In the wash room, Hermione looked at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were over-bright, her cheeks rosy, her lips slightly swollen from the stolen kiss. What in the hell had gotten into her?

 _Cherry liquor_ , she reminded herself. He'd actually gone through with tricking her into getting drunk. Not that he'd needed to. She'd told him everything before the drink had even affected her! Despite how much she wanted to resent him for his duplicity, she couldn't bring herself to be angry at the outcome. She may have let slip more about her sex life than she'd intended, but the look on his face after she'd kissed him had been more than worth it.

The shock had been overwhelming, but the desire she'd seen there had been raw and poignant. Was that how his face would look moving above her in passion? The very thought sent a shudder of pleasure through her. How had she never noticed just how _sensual_ he was? It was as if the mask of professor had fallen away to reveal a man who was starved for physical affection. Everything about him, his lean body, agile hands, smoldering eyes, rich voice, seemed made for sex.

If the tingle that had started in the pit of her stomach was any indication, Hermione found herself again lusting after her ex professor. It wasn't just the alcohol, right? She'd had the beginnings of these thoughts before. The drink might have intensified them, or made her just uninhibited enough to see them for what they really were. If she went back to the table and he asked to take her to bed, she would go along willingly. But as the cold water she splashed on her face began to combat the effects of her buzz, she realized there was no way in hell that would be his reaction. Not only would he think it unseemly to have sex with her while she was intoxicated, but he was likely angry with her for being so forward in her physical advances.

Suddenly, what had started as a half joke now seemed terribly inappropriate. He still saw himself as her teacher. The idea of a sexual relationship with her obviously made him uncomfortable. And she had basically thrown herself at him. She splashed more water on her face and wished desperately she had a bottle of sober-up she could take.

…...

Severus stared at the closed door to the ladies wash room for what seemed like endless moments. Hermione had just...kissed him. On the mouth. Willingly. As if her comment about the bondage hadn't been enough to give him a painful erection. No, she'd taken their banter one step further and actually _kissed_ him. How was he supposed to handle that?

He wanted to be furious. If another student had dared try such a thing he would have had them expelled. But he was no longer a professor, and she wasn't even technically a student. Worse, he wasn't sure he minded. If he was being brutally honest, he wanted nothing more than to follow her into the loo, slide that dress up her long legs and fuck her over the taps. He groaned as images of that exact scenario ran riot in his mind. He could almost hear her breathy cries, feel her tight quim gripping his cock. He clenched his hands into fists so hard he could feel his blunt nails biting into the calloused palms and leaving furrows.

Lashing him more sharply than his desire for her, though, was his disgust with himself. Had he brought her here purposely to get her drunk and take advantage of her? Consciously, no. But was it possible that unconsciously he had? Much to his chagrin, she obviously had turned him into some romantic hero in her mind. She credited him with saving her and her friend's lives. She was doing whatever she could to show her gratitude to him. And if that sense of debt manifested itself in sexual ways... Would she really let him fuck her out of pity or remorse?

His temper flared and for one selfish moment he didn't care. She was a goddamn adult. Why should it matter to him what her motivations were? It had been so long since he'd had a willing woman in his bed that if she wanted to be the sacrificial lamb, he would happily lead her to the alter. He could take her back to his rooms, ride her till neither of them could stand, and then toss her out without a second glance. Hadn't he _earned_ that much?

The guilt that accompanied those thoughts was swift and crippling. Was he really such a bastard that he would take advantage of her like that? She was a confused young woman who felt indebted to him. And he wanted to take her generosity and twist it into something deviant. Was he incapable of basic human decency? Had he really played the part so long that he'd become the villain of his own life?

When she returned from the bathroom he was furious. With himself for his sick impulses, and with her for bringing them out in him. If she wasn't so beautiful, so smart, so fucking innocent, she wouldn't tempt him so. As she stepped up to the table, he rose stiffly. She flashed him a bashful, apologetic smile. He glowered at her until it faded.

"I think it best we make our way back to the castle."

"Alright," she agreed softly. She went to draw a few coins out of her bag and he actually _growled_ at her. Was she really going to insult him by trying to pay? As if she could afford the bottle of wine he'd plied her with anyways. He passed his wand over the authorization slip and then turned to the door. The garson who'd greeted them opened it for them.

Black clouds roiled in the sky and rain pelted the ground quickly enough to begin to flood the cobblestone streets.

"Damn Sybil Trelaweny to Hades and back!" Hermione swore. Severus raised both brows at her colorful show of temper, but wasn't inclined to disagree.

"As you are likely too intoxicated to apparate yourself back in one piece, we will need to side along."

"I hate to say this, but right now I can't guarantee that I wouldn't be sick on your shoes if I tried apparation." They both looked down at his polished black boots.

"Walking it is, then."

"You can apparate back and I'll walk. It's not that far-"

"Do not insult me, Granger," he snapped. "I am not going to get you inebriated and then leave you to find your way back through inclement weather. Just because Death Eaters won't snatch you off the path doesn't mean there aren't a plethora of other dubious fates that could meet you along the way. You don't even have a cloak." He sounded so thoroughly disgusted with her that Hermione only studied the ground, ashamed of herself. "Are you capable of a water repellent charm to keep your feet dry or must I do that as well?"

"I'm perfectly capable," she snapped, trying not to sound like a petulant child. Once they'd both put the appropriate spells on their shoes, he lifted the edge of his cloak and gestured her under it. She stared at him in shock, half wanting to cling to his side like a crag in the storm and half wanting to stomp off into the rain just to spite him.

"I'll not have you taking ill because of my actions, Miss Granger. Get under my cloak. That isn't a request." His gaze burned into hers until Hermione felt her feet moving of their own accord. She tucked herself against his side and let the cloak drape over both of them. Without another word, he started off. In order to keep against him, she had to put her arm around his back. He held his own arm stiffly over her shoulder, touching her as little as possible. As they walked, though, they seemed to melt against each other. She clutched at the back of his frock coat and leaned into him for balance. His arm relaxed around her until he was holding her close.

They moved through the village and out onto the path that led back to the castle. Hermione couldn't help but notice how at odds his actions were with the way he'd spoken to her. Despite his harsh words, he held her carefully, shortening his own strides so she could keep. He shielded her from the rain and kept her warm with his body heat. She realized he was close enough that she could smell him. The only other time she'd been so close to him physically had been when he was dying in the Shrieking Shack, and then the odor of blood had overwhelmed all others. Now, though, she could detect the bitter scent of witch hazel, and a milder, stronger smell... cedar? She found herself wanting to bury her face against his chest and spend hours enjoying that scent.

Her own will, or the lingering effects of the drink? As much as she wanted to claim the foolish thought was not hers, the alcohol was quickly leaving her system, deserting her to her own whims and desires. Which left her to face, once again, the realization that she _wanted_ Severus Snape. It was such a strange conclusion to reach that it seemed easier to write it off as a ridiculous crush -Lockheart had shown her that even she was capable of them- or that alcohol was hindering her judgment. But the fact remained that neither of those were true. She wanted him of her own accord, wholly and completely. Not as the teacher who'd vexed her, not as the war hero who'd saved them all, not as the recluse who'd been forced to tutor her. But as the man who's body was pressed against hers. The living, breathing, real life person who she'd kissed and flirted with, argued and debated with.

Suddenly bold, she slipped her hand under his frock coat and rested it where his shirt met his trousers. He jerked a little at the abrupt change, but though he looked down at her sharply, he said nothing. Emboldened, she tugged at his shirt until it came untucked and slid her hand under. The skin of his back was warm and she could feel the raised outlines of scars beneath her fingertips.

Snape swallowed thickly and fought down the urge to have her right there on the path in the rain. The feel of her hand caressing his back was maddening. They were pressed close together out of necessity, but what she was doing to him was pure hedonistic delight. He knew he ought to tell her how inappropriate her actions were. He should remove her hand and tell her not to touch him again. But he held his tongue. That selfish part of him whispered enticingly, promising that if he wasn't actively encouraging her actions, then he wasn't taking advantage. That despite her youth and inexperience, despite the liquor he'd tricked her into imbibing, it wasn't wrong to allow her to continue since she'd started it of her own free will.

Logically, he knew he would hate himself later for his weakness, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Slowly, softly, his thumb began to caress her hip over her dress. It was such a small movement. Just a light up and down pressure at the bone. Totally innocent. And yet it felt as if he was stroking her sexually. He stopped, and she rested her head against the side of his chest. When he started again, she gave the softest, lightest hum of satisfaction. In the wind and rain, he almost didn't hear it. But he had. She was _pleased_ with him having his hands on her.

Suddenly, all the reasons he _shouldn't_ take her back to his room and have his wicked way with her had fled his mind. What could be the harm? She was an adult. She obviously didn't mind his attentions.

They reached the castle, but neither moved to step inside. Doing so would mean they no longer had an excuse to be so close. While they stood out in the rain, they could pretend, at least, that they were huddled together against the elements. Hermione looked up at him, uncertainty and desire warring within her.

"Do you want-"

"Snape! Jus' the man I was lookin' for. Bloody castle's got a mind of it's own, it has. Always did, but now tha' it's bein' remodeled, it's gotten even worse! Keeps movin' the dungeon class room! Need you to come set it to rights." Filch squinted at Severus through the rain, but didn't step out into it. For a moment there, he thought he'd seen Snape's cloak move on it's own, but decided it must have been just a figment of his imagination.

"McGonagall is the headmaster now, Argus. Surely she would be better suited to handle such things?"

"Minerva tried, she did. But the dungeons 'ave always responded better to you, as you well know. See you as one of their own, they do."

"Very well, I shall see to it in the morning." His glower put the matter to rest when Filch would have argued.

"Right then. Off I go now." He turned and shuffled away, Mrs. Norris trailing behind him. Hermione reluctantly pulled her hand out from his shirt when he lifted his arm and ushered her through the castle doors.

"I believe bed is in order for you, Miss Granger. After all, I know for a fact that you have a very important tutoring session in the morning, and your tutor will not go easy on you for such a trivial excuse as a hangover."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," she smiled. "In that case, I shall say thank you again for the delicious wine, dubious though your motives were, and thank you for seeing me returned safely. And that I hope you had even half so good a time as I did. Perhaps sometime in the future, I can convince you to go out with me again."

"You're welcome," he returned, inclining his head at her and purposely ignoring her implied request for a promise of future outings.

"Goodnight, then." Moving carefully so that he saw her intentions and had time to stop her if he chose, Hermione went up to her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Then she had the audacity to reach around, tuck his shirt back into his trousers, and walk away casually. As if she _hadn't_ just had her hands down his pants.

Once she was out of sight, Severus made his way down to his dungeon rooms. Though the air was perpetually cold, he stripped his clothes without the use of a warming charm and stepped into an icy shower. The erection he'd been sporting since her admission about the bondage lingered stubbornly, then finally began to flag. He stayed under the spray until his teeth chattered and his muscles were jerking in reaction to the cold.

Clothed in only his dressing gown, he poured himself a glass of fire whiskey and stared into the flames burning merrily in his hearth. Unless he'd actually fucked her in the loo, he wasn't sure the night could have gone worse. They'd kissed and caressed each other, all while she was under the influence of alcohol. In the morning, if she wanted, she could likely have him thrown out of the school. His offenses were perhaps not worthy of time in Azkaban, but they were inappropriate enough to cause a stir, he was certain.

Why did he want her so badly? She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She was the most brilliant, yes, but there were other attributes she was lacking. Not a single one came readily to mind, but that didn't mean they weren't there. It just didn't make sense to him that he should be so drawn to her. Was it only because she trusted him, made friends with him, _wanted_ him?

He shook his head in disgust. His chivalrous offer to share his cloak had ended up as a simple excuse to feel her up. It would be only what he deserved if she went to the office the next morning and berated him for his behavior.

Across the room, there was a soft buzzing on his desk. He crossed and looked down at the rolled up parchment. The one he'd put the two-way spell on. It buzzed again, indicating that it had a message that hadn't been read.

 _I hope that I didn't offend you with my boldness this evening._

 _HG_

 _As I am sure that the liquor I tricked you into drinking was the cause, I cannot complain._

 _SS_

 _I'll admit that it may have played a part in lowering my inhibitions, but to be honest I didn't say anything that I didn't mean._

 _HG_

 _If you are referring to your comment about bondage, Miss Granger, I can only take your word for it._

 _SS_

 _That's not necessarily true..._

 _HG_

 _I highly suggest you allow the alcohol to leave your system before you make any suggestions you will regret in the morning._

 _SS_

 _I can assure you that I am no longer under the effects of any lingering alcohol. I took a Sober Up potion as soon as I got to my room to prevent that very thing. My mind is quite my own._

 _HG_

 _In that case, I can only assume that I was correct in my original assumption that you are a masochist._

 _SS_

 _Is that really the only explanation? Can't I just want to act on my desires without there being any other reason than that I wish to do so?_

 _HG_

 _I don't need to tell you again how inappropriate this conversation is between us. The physical contact we have already shared is just as improper. Acting on any desires you may have deluded yourself into believing you have is, of course, out of the question._

 _SS_

 _No, you've told me those things before. But that hasn't seemed to stop us. After all, there's nothing actually wrong with anything we've done. Or anything we might do in the future, if you were willing._

 _And as for your outright rejection of my feelings and wishes being real, I can only assume that you are being self-deprecating, and tell you to get over yourself._

 _HG_

 _'Get over myself?' Your own judgment might be clouded with sexual frustration but mine is not. If you find yourself so deeply in need, that even_ I _seem to be a suitable partner, I suggest you go on a date or two, and soon._

 _SS_

 _Tell me you don't feel the same way I do, and I will._

 _HG_

 _As you do not even know what you really feel, I shall decline._

 _SS_

 _See? You can't do it. You know there is something between us, and you're just not willing to face it. For such a brave man, you are awfully reserved about sex._

 _HG_

 _I assure you, there is nothing reserved about my attitude towards sex, nor in the way I carry out the act itself._ _My reservations come from having no desire to see the inevitable look of regret on your face in the morning._

 _SS_

 _Do you really think I would regret being intimate with you?_

 _HG_

 _Undoubtedly._

 _SS_

 _Maybe you don't know me as well as I thought you did, after all. I almost never do anything contrary to my wishes, and I always stick to my decisions once I make up my mind. There are few things in my life that I've regretted. You could never be one of them._

 _HG_

 _Then tell me, what precisely have you made up your mind about? That you want to let me fuck you? That you're willing to lower yourself to bed me out of some twisted sense of hero worship, or worse, pity? And then what, Miss Granger? What happens when you wake up after bedding the beast? Am I supposed to continue on as your tutor? Will you continue to let me fuck you until you've finished your testing? Shall I send you on your merry way once you've paid your penance?_

 _Or are you really so foolish to believe that you could actually grow to_ like _me? That you'll be willing to settle down with a bitter man twice your age? Perhaps you think you can tame the shrew. That I will be so busy chasing after your dress ribbons that I will suddenly become a lovesick puppy. I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth._

 _SS_

 _If you are trying to shock me away from you, let me assure you that it won't work. I see no conflict of interest in you continuing to be my tutor were we to enter into a physical relationship, since you assign me no homework and will have no hand in the testing itself._

 _As for the future, I suggest you try Trelawney's dubious predictions if you are looking for reassurance. Alas, all I can offer are my thoughts and feelings at the present. I_ am _foolish enough, as you say, to like you. Even when you are being a complete arse, like now. To be honest, I haven't examined thoughts of the future much beyond getting you to admit that you want me as much as I want you. If we get to that point, and if you are willing to overcome your obvious confidence issues and allow us to give this a real shot, then I assume we would both have to decide what we want for the future. Whether what happens between us is a fling or something more serious is a decision that we_ both _would have to make._

 _HG_

 _Also, the very idea of you turning into a lovesick puppy is ridiculous. No one who'd known you for more than five minutes could possibly think that would happen, no matter the circumstances._

 _HG_

There was a long break after Hermione sent that last message. It gave her time to realize just how far she'd taken their conversation. She'd only just come to the realization that she actually _did_ want to sleep with him. She hadn't had any intentions of springing it on him like this. But he was just so... infuriating! She couldn't help but rise to his challenges. When they were writing, it was as if she could say anything at all with impunity. Before she knew it, she was writing far more than she'd intended, making more declarations than she'd planned. It wasn't that she said anything that she didn't mean or didn't want to say, but they came out much sooner and more brazen than she'd intended. If not for his own crass words and his refusal to deny his attraction to her, she would think she'd seriously crossed a line.

 _Arse? Confidence issues? Your sweet talk is lacking._

 _SS_

 _I wouldn't make the mistake of trying to sweet talk you. I know you better than that._

 _HG_

 _Just how well do you think you know me, then?_

 _SS_

 _Well enough._

 _HG_

 _Do you think you can tell when I am being in earnest and when I am merely taunting my prey?_

 _SS_

 _Try me._

 _HG_

 _Come to the dungeons._

 _SS_

Severus stared at the parchment and couldn't believe the words he'd just written. His spiked, spidery scrawl slowly faded from the paper and nothing in Hermione's neat, compact lettering appeared. Had she called his bluff? Had he even been bluffing?

He didn't know any more. When he'd gotten to his rooms, he'd poured himself a lion's share of fire whiskey and downed it. Perhaps instead of worrying about _her_ making a reckless decision in her inebriation, he should have worried more about himself.

Why was he even entertaining the possibility that she wanted not just a drunken dalliance with him, but a real relationship? She couldn't truly mean it. Why would she? Of course, even if she did, it wasn't feasible. Yes, if they were both ten years older, no one would bat at eye at the age difference between them. Not only was age somewhat insignificant because of how long wizards lived, but pureblood families had been arranging for marriages between elderly men and girls younger than Hermione for centuries without anyone putting a stop to it. Their respective positions in the school weren't really an issue either, as she seemed to take great pride in reminding him. He was no longer her teacher, and since she did no homework and got no grades, she wasn't considered a student.

It didn't change the fact that she was young, and that he'd known her as a child. Perhaps she thought she knew what she wanted now, but she was likely to change her mind as soon as she realized just how burdensome being with someone like him would be. And how was he supposed to suddenly forget the fact that he'd been thirty one when he'd first met her? When she was barely conceived, he had already pledged his loyalty to Voldemort. If history had been kinder to him and he and Lily had ended up together, Snape could have children of his own Hermione's age.

Merlin's bouncing bollocks, what if he was older than her father?

He stared at the parchment until his head started to swim from the force of it. As if he could will it into saying something to him. Force her to reply to his challenge by the mere strength of his mind. Of course the parchment remained blank. Was that a noise he heard in the corridor? Or just his paranoid imagination?

What was he going to do with her if she really came down to his rooms?

That selfish bastard inside of him knew _exactly_ what he could do with her. In exactly what spots, which positions, and how many times. But was he really so callous that he would give into those urges? He honestly wasn't sure, and he hated himself for that.

The only thing he was completely certain of was that he _did_ want her. Right or wrong, wise or foolish, he wanted her so badly that he could practically taste her. Perhaps the biggest problem was that he didn't _just_ want her physically. If he did, and didn't care for her in any other aspect, it would be easy enough to justify dragging her to his bed and then dismissing her without a second thought when he was done. That wasn't the case, though. He respected her mind, and it mattered to him that she be happy.

Happy was not something he could provide for a young woman so eager to see the world and make a difference. All he would do is weigh her down.

The knock at the door nearly made him jump out of his skin. It was tentative, and so light that under other circumstances he might have missed it. But considering what had already passed between them, it seemed as loud as a bullet ricochet. He took a moment to carefully compose his face before he jerked open his door and glared at her.

"Miss Granger," he drawled.

"Snape," she returned just as cautiously. After a long moment, he stepped aside and held the door open for her.

For the first time ever, a woman entered his rooms in the castle. She moved inside and looked around the small space. The door opened into the sitting room, where a comfortable arm chair was arranged before the hearth with two tables flanking it. The tables were, of course, loaded with books. To the left was the door to the wash room. Straight ahead was the door that led to his bedroom. To the right was a broom cupboard.

She turned to face him once he closed the door, but then faltered and silence lapsed between them once more.

"Lost your nerve in the face of reality?" he sneered, uncomfortable and hating her for it.

"Hardly. I just find it easier to organize what I want to say on paper."

"More cowardly, you mean."

"If so, then you're a coward too."

" _Don't call me that,_ " he hissed at her.

"Then you don't call me one! I'm the one who came down here! You already admitted to me that you're more comfortable conversing in writing, too."

"Fine," he snapped, glaring at her as if her very presence offended him. He wished he was still wearing his cloak or frock coat. In only his dressing gown, he felt terribly bare. Vulnerable. Anger stirred in him again.

Hermione looked somewhat mollified at his acquiescence. She took a moment to look around the room, her eyes resting briefly on his books. "Was I right?" she finally asked.

"What about?"

"Did you really want me down here, or were you just, 'toying' with me, as you called it."

"Now that you're here, does the answer really matter?" he challenged. She put her hands on her hips, exasperation flaring in her eyes.

"Yes, dammit! I want you to admit that you want me!"

"Looking for declarations and pretty words?" He sneered down at her, hating the way the night gown she wore wreaked havoc on his senses, even under her dressing gown.

"From you? Hardly. Tell me you don't want me and I'll go. You'll be free to mock me to your heart's content about it in the morning."

He consciously let his eyes rove over her, then looked away dismissively. "You've got all the right parts. You'd suffice."

With a bravery she didn't truly feel, Hermione loosened the belt of her robe and let it fall open. She took two steps closer to him. "That's not what I asked. Tell me you don't want me." Was that _her_ voice that was so low and throaty? She hardly recognized it.

How did she simply dismiss his mocking? It was as if she could see through his barbs and look into his very soul. Of their own volition, he looked her up and down again. His pupils were dilated, his chest rose and fell sharply. She didn't need him to say anything at all. This desire was evident in every aspect of him. He swallowed hard, ensnared in the face of someone who pierced the armour that had buffered him from the world for years.

She took two more steps and closed the distance between them. Slowly, she reached up and cupped his cheek. She could feel the beginnings of stubble under her fingertips. His wide eyes never left hers as she went up to her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tell me to stop and I will," she whispered. When he made no move, she kissed him again, this time fully on the lips. He stayed unmoving under her ministrations for long moments before he was unable to resist. One hand rose up to tangle in her hair. He slanted his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss. She parted her lips willingly and their tongues met in the briefest of forays before retreating and then exploring again.

Being wrapped in his arms, devoured by his kiss, was intoxicating. Hermione didn't even notice the low moan that escaped her throat. She could feel the heat of his body through his robe, the firm press of his erection against her belly, hear the low, satisfied growls coming from his chest. Her senses were on overload, but she desperately wanted more. She moved her hands from his shoulders down to slip inside the dressing gown and was rewarded with the feel of his bare chest under her hands. She slid them up over the silky line of hair on his taut stomach, skated across his defined pectorals, and let her fingernails dig into his shoulders.

Without breaking the kiss, she explored the planes and angles of his torso. Boldly, she skimmed her fingers lower, teasing the indent where his psosas major met his iliacus. He hissed in a breath and his cock jerked. Emboldened, she brushed over it with the back of her knuckles. His grip on her hair grew tighter and his body trembled. When she wrapped her fingers around it's thickness and stroked him, he moaned low and fought to keep his knees from buckling. When was the last time anyone- including himself- had touched him like this?

"I need-" his voice shook and Hermione didn't wait for him to finish.

"Yes," she urged him. "I do too." Still clinging together, they backed to one of the side tables. Hermione reached behind blindly to push the books off, but Severus lifted her by the backs of her thighs and shoved them out of the way with her body. They thudded to the floor but neither of them paid any notice. Snape was pulling Hermione's nightgown up, cursing the seeming yards of flowy fabric until he felt the bare skin of her leg.

Half mad with need for her, he fitted himself between her thighs and literally ripped her panties apart at the seam. Wild with her own desire, Hermione reveled in his urgency, locking her heels behind his back to pull him closer. He fumbled, gripping himself and cursing as he tried to line himself up with her. The head of his cock met slick heat and years of forced celibacy bore down on him. He desperately tried to push inside of her but she was tight and her muscles tensed in pleasure. He slid ineffectually over the outside of her sex and his erection became trapped between them as he came helplessly. Hermione gasped at the sensation of his turgid flesh jerking against her clit. She dug her fingers into his shoulders again and undulated her hips, riding the spasming length of him wantonly. The sound that escaped his throat was somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and even as the haze of lust filled his mind he hated himself for it.

He tried to jerk back, shame scalding him hotly. Hermione clutched him closer, nails biting into his skin and her muscles taut as a bowstring as she desperately worked herself against him. She was so close- so close- Her orgasm hit her and she screamed, having barely enough rational thought left to care that they hadn't even made it to penetration. All she cared about was the way his skin felt against hers, the heat from his body-

She lost that heat as he stumbled back. Her muscles had relaxed enough to release him and he broke away from her hold, staring at her as if he'd committed some atrocity. Startled by the stark look on his face, Hermione reached out for him but he only drew back further. She looked down and saw that she appeared the very image of wanton lust. Her thighs were spread provocatively, skin flushed, pearly beads of ejaculate splashed across her stomach. She had the grace to blush, but couldn't summon any shame in the way she looked. How could she, when she was so thoroughly pleasured?

Severus reached forward to yank blindly at the hem of her nightgown, pulling the length of material down so it once more pooled down to her ankles. Covering her. Covering the evidence of what he'd done to her. Then he backed away again, not trusting himself to be anywhere near her. How could he be so stupid? Not only had he just tried to have sex with one of his students, but he hadn't taken any precautions for either of them. Perhaps worse, he hadn't even been able to complete the act. He'd spilled against her mons like a firstie into a sock. He hadn't even been capable of defiling her properly.

He was fucking pathetic.

 _Let's see what's under Snivellius' shorts!_

 _I bet he hasn't even got a tally whacker._

 _If he does, it doesn't work!_

 _Probably the size of a thimble._

 _Good thing no girl would ever want to go near it._

 _No bloke, either!_

"Get out," he growled, clutching his head as the memories assaulted him.

"Snape, I-" She reached for him and he knocked her hand away before it could touch him.

" _Get out!_ " he hissed. "OUT!" He looked so delirious with rage that Hermione backed away. Then, at the look of hatred in his black eyes, her courage deserted her and she fled.

Severus stood there, chest rising and falling sharply. His fists clenched and unclenched. Bitterness welled up inside him until it overwhelmed all his other senses. Exhausted, he staggered to his bed and collapsed there, letting the shame and disgust consume him.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione faced the door to the potions office resolutely. She reminded herself that she was a Gryffindor, and that she had faced down Voldemort without flinching. So why did the idea of seeing Severus Snape seem so much more daunting?

With a deep breath and every ounce of her courage girding her, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Snape was standing in front of the make-shift chalk board, writing down the names of obscure potions. He paused almost imperceptibly when she entered, then resumed his task. When he made no move to turn and face her, she cleared her throat softly. He paused again, this time to flick his wand at the piece of parchment sitting on the desk. On it was written ingredients that she recognized were for a fireproofing potion. Her task for the day, she assumed.

The silence stretched between them as she gathered the ingredients and started setting up the potion base. All the things she wanted to say bubbled behind her tongue, thick and ineffectual. She started to speak half a dozen times, only to open her mouth and have no sound come out. Finally, when the sounds of chalk on slate grew overwhelming, she found her voice.

"I tried to write to you last night. On the parchment... After..." Why was she blathering like an idiot? She'd nearly slept with the man last night and now she couldn't even form complete sentences in his presence? He said nothing, so she tried again. "I wanted to make sure we were... okay."

"We are _not,_ " came his terse reply.

"Why?" She stared at his back as he continued to write, refusing to even look at her. "What's wrong?" Still, he resolutely ignored her. Was she supposed to pound her head against this brick wall the rest of their time together? Did he think she would eventually give up? Or did he honestly believe that he would never have to face her again during their tutoring sessions? Spine stiff with indignation, Hermione marched up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He jumped at the contact, flinching away from her.

"Don't touch me," he growled, wrapping his robes tighter around himself. Was it her imagination, or were there even _more_ buttons on his attire than usual?

"What? Why?"

"Is that all you are capable of saying? _What? Why?_ Your lack of reason is disgusting."

Hermione pulled back this time, cut to the quick. "Maybe if you would explain why you are being so vile to me this morning, I wouldn't have to _disgust_ you with my stupidity." Were those tears that were pricking her eyes? She blinked angrily to keep them at bay.

"Perhaps _you've_ been lucky enough to block out the depravity that occurred between us last night, but I have not."

"Depravity? Is that what you call it?"

"There isn't a word more fitting."

"How about fucking?" Hermione asked angrily, not caring about the vulgar language she was using in front of him. "Frottage? Heavy petting? Your cock rubbing against my pussy until we both-"

" _Cease this at once!_ " He slammed his fist against the board, sending a crack shooting along it's length.

"Too crass for you? Can't face the reality of what we did in the light of day?" She stepped closer to him, uncaring of the danger flashing in his eyes.

"What I did to you was revolting and completely unacceptable. It was a serious error in judgment that shall never be repeated again."

"Revolting? Is that really how you feel about me?"

"Don't put words in my mouth!"

"It was _your_ word! You're the one who said it."

"I said what I did-"

"You're just too much of a coward to admit that what you really mean is-"

" _Don't call me that!"_ He took the last step separating them menacingly, long fingers wrapping just under her jaw and forcing her head up.

"Or what?" she challenged.

"You have no idea who you are playing with, little girl," he whispered down at her. Somehow those soft words were more chilling than his shouts or hisses.

"Then show me."

His eyes searched hers, looking for – what? Loathing? Submission? Regret? None was there. "What do you want from me?" The words were so ragged that some of the fire left Hermione. She curled her fingers around the lapels of his robes and fought the urge to pull him close.

"Right now, I just want to talk about last night. I know it wasn't exactly what you were probably expecting, that we didn't get all the way."

"You mean that I came like a fumbling adolescent before I could even mount you?"

"Er- yes. But that doesn't mean that we can't try again-" He was pulling away from her before she could even finish her sentence. "Snape, please."

"Please what? Please let me defile you? Please let me fuck one of my students? Not only that, but irresponsibly, and with no thought to the consequences?"

"Neither of us would have gotten in trouble! I'm an adult."

"I'm not talking about detention," he snapped. "Do you realize that you could have gotten pregnant? Neither of us had the presence of mind to use a contraceptive charm. And inadequate as my performance was, the possibility still exists."

The embarrassment that burned her cheeks matched the twin spots high on his own. She bit her lip, having considered the possibility hours before. "I'd planned to visit a muggle apothecary this afternoon. There is a pill I can take."

"And diseases? Infections? Did we even consider each other's sexual histories before we fell on each other like rabbits in mating season?"

"I don't have any sexually transmitted diseases!" Hermione snapped, indignant.

"Bully for you," Snape muttered. "But what if I would have?"

"You wouldn't have taken me to bed if you did," she returned confidently.

"Wouldn't I have?"

Hermione lifted her nose and glared at him. "No."

"Lucky for you, the point is moot. But it doesn't change the fact that what occurred between us was distasteful. Execrable. And were the world sane, illegal."

"Well then it's a good thing we live in this mad world. Because what we did wasn't wrong. It was a bit of physical release between two consenting adults. I wanted you, you wanted me."

"Maybe you were just the first pair of legs that opened for me," he sneered at her.

There was a moment of silence as Hermione let him have time to regret that comment. "That was beneath even you." He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died there. Instead, he just gave her a sharp nod. Hermione accepted his silent apology with more grudging than grace. "You wanted me," she repeated.

"Enough that I couldn't even complete the sin I'd set out to commit."

"Enough that neither of us could wait. That doesn't mean that we didn't enjoy it. It doesn't take away what we shared, or cheapen it somehow."

"You seem to be under the delusion that a dalliance with me isn't in and of itself a cheap, vile thing."

Hermione used her grip on his robes to shake him sharply. "Stop saying things like that. I'm not ashamed of what we did. There wasn't anything wrong with it."

"Oh yes, because you _like_ me."

"Don't say it like that! Is it so hard to believe?"

"Yes."

"Too bad. Get it through your thick skull. I _like_ you. I _want_ you. Deal with it."

"Well I do not _like_ this! I detest weakness! You make me- you make me- vulnerable! Helpless! Impotent! Never have I been so repelled by my own lack of control!"

"I'd hardly call you impotent," Hermione reminded him with a raised brow.

"This is serious," he snapped.

"No, this is Severus. Sirius wasn't my type."

"I should think not," he snarled, not amused at her attempt at humor.

"You are, though. My type."

"Your history with men would seem to bear you out."

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "You don't know enough about my love life to say that."

"The Weasley boy? That quidditch player?"

"Ron and Viktor? You think that's my 'type'?" She shook her head. "Hardly. Viktor was fascinated with me because I didn't swoon after him the way other girls did, and I liked for once being paid attention to as a woman. And Ron... that was more to do with years of friendship under more pressure than anyone ought to be able to handle."

"You were under that same situation with Potter and yet had no romantic interest in him. Or so it would seem."

"Ginny liked Harry from the first moment she saw him on platform 9 ¾ when she was ten years old. There was no way I could have formed any kind of attraction to him knowing how she felt."

"How magnanimous of you," he drawled sarcastically.

"It really wasn't. He isn't my type either."

"Then you've at least got some sense."

"But _you_ ," she pulled him closer by his lapels, " _are_." Brazenly, she kissed the corner of his mouth. Snape put his hands on her shoulders, intending to push her away. But she kissed him again, this time full on the lips and pressed her body to him longingly. Involuntarily, he found himself clutching her closer. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Groaning as she lifted one leg and wrapped it around his thigh-

"Stop!" He finally found the will to break the kiss, plucking her up by her shoulders and setting her away from him.

"Why?"

"Because this is _wrong!_ How do you not see that?"

"What is so damned wrong with it?"

"Everything! You are my fucking student!" He roared.

"No, I am _not_!" She yelled back.

"I don't care what the ministry is calling this. I am instructing you. You are my student. Any relationship between us is unethical and inappropriate."

"Is that the only reason you're against us?"

"It is primary among a myriad of others."

"Then I quit."

"You quit?" He couldn't have heard her right...

"Yes. I quit. I don't need this tutoring. Aside from my own vanity of wanting to get higher NEWT scores by brushing up before I took them, I only agreed to this tutoring to see you!"

"Oh yes, to convey your unwanted gratitude." His voice was thick with bitterness.

"Yes! And to get to know you. The real you. To make sure you were alright. To see if I could do anything to help."

"To fuck me all better?" He sneered.

"Merlin but you are a bastard sometimes. No, not to sleep with you. I can assure you that was entirely unexpected. But I don't seen any reason to fight the attraction between us. I like you, I want you, and you obviously want me. I'd like to see where this goes. Since you're so hung up on be being your student, I'll take my NEWTs and be done with it. Then will you be willing to give this a shot?"

Severus shook his head, trying to force himself to recount all the reasons they were completely unsuited for each other. "Our age-"

"Is absolutely meaningless and you know it."

"Even if you are willing to discount the nearly two decades between us, you cannot deny that you have not had sufficient time to see the world and know your own mind."

"I'm not asking you to marry me," she cried, exasperated.

"Thank the heavens for that," he muttered. "The fact still remains that you are inexperienced, and for me to take advantage of that inexperience for my own sexual gratification would be dishonorable."

"You insufferable prat of a man. For _your_ sexual gratification? What about mine? Do I need to have slept with more partners before you think I'm 'ready'? How many is enough? Five, twenty, a hundred? Does it have to be full sex, or will a blowjob do?"

Severus grimaced, clearly disgusted with the idea. "That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant. How many women have you been with? Maybe I should be worrying about taking advantage of _your_ inexperience."

"Hardly," he drawled.

"Then admit that it's a terrible excuse. You're grasping at straws because you're too afraid to take what's in front of you. Maybe you've just been miserable for so long that you don't know how to be happy."

"Has it occurred to you that I've had enough misery in my life that I don't want to subject myself to more? That I don't want to become attached to a youth who is going to move on at any moment? Say you take your NEWTs tomorrow. Then what? University in Brazil? Apprenticeship in Greece? A job in Antarctica researching the medicinal properties of penguin eggs? And you're going to, what, spurn the advances of the plethora of men who will be flocking to your step? All in favor of a bitter old man who couldn't even preform last night?" His chest was heaving by the time he'd finished. It was far more than he'd intended to reveal. Far more than he'd been willing to admit, even to himself. She was simply too good to be true. Too young, too beautiful, too smart, to truly want him. And if by some chance she did, it wouldn't be long before she came to her senses and left him. Then where would he be?

"You're so afraid of this ending that you're not willing to even really let it start?" She said the words softly, understanding even if she disagreed.

"Perhaps the temporary satisfaction is not worth the eventual pain."

"Why does it have to be painful? Is it not possible that it _won't_ end?"

"I live in the real world, Miss Granger, not in a fairy tale. There is no such thing as 'happily ever after.' Not for me."

"Why not?"

"Just stop. Please." The word was distasteful to him, but he wanted to beg her to leave him alone. "Just stop," he repeated softly.

"Answer me one thing. What would it take for you to be willing to try?"

"Nothing that it is in your power to give."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because no time turner can take you back and prevent you from being my student for six years. Even the most respectable practitioner of divination cannot tell you how this will end. And no amount of willpower or intelligence on your part can speed up time until you have completed at least some aspect of your adult life and can be sure of what you really want."

"You're right, I can't go back. I wouldn't want to. And if any of them are even remotely like Professor Trelawney, I shudder to think of even _trying_ to have our future read by a diviner. But I can do the last one. How much of 'adult life' would I need to have completed to satisfy you? Finishing university? A year in a career?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm asking you the same thing you asked me before. 'Name your terms succinctly.' What do I have to have accomplished before you will be willing to give us a chance? Is receiving my degree enough?"

"You're suggesting that we wait until you have finished your higher education and then resume this... whatever this is?"

"If that would be enough, yes."

"And I am supposed to believe that you will eschew all others during this time? I am a realist, Miss Granger, not a simpleton."

"Would you do the same if I did?"

"I am not a monk, either" he said to evade answering. Could she truly be considering this? Four more years would seem small considering how long he'd already been denied physical pleasure. But there wasn't any point in even thinking on it-

"Then let's simply agree to be honest with each other about what happens in the interim. Is that sufficient to you?"

"I hardly see the need to share with you the details of my love life, or lack thereof."

Hermione shrugged. "Then don't. I'm rather possessive, anyways. Maybe it's better that I not know if you're getting off with another woman. The only thing I need to know is if your feelings about me should change."

"I am free to sleep with whomever I wish, in this scenario, while you live like a nun?"

"Fuck your way across Great Britain if that will make you happy. When it comes right down to it, that's what I want, Snape. I want you to be happy. And I want an opportunity to _be_ the one who makes you happy. If this is the only way to do that, then fine. I'll finish my schooling and then we can pick up where we left off."

"You truly think this is worth giving up years of your life to pursue?"

"I do."

"Then you're a fool."

"Perhaps I am. But it doesn't change the situation. There's only one thing I ask."

"And what is that?"

"Keep writing to me. I'll be writing to you every opportunity I get. Write me back. Tell me how your day went, who annoyed you, what you're working on..."

" _That_ is your one caveat in all this?"

"It is. I don't want to lose you from my life when I've just got you back. We are both more forthcoming in writing anyways. If we keep using the two way parchment, it will be almost as good as being able to talk to you. In some ways, better. Can you agree to that?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then it's settled." She smiled at him, the sunshine on snow smile. "I'll go talk to Professor McGonagall right away. And when I've finished university, we can pick this back up again where we left off."

"I never said I would go along with-"

"Yes you did. Now kiss me. I'm not your student in any form any longer. Kiss me and remind me what it is that I'm waiting for."

Severus only blinked down at her. She had neatly boxed him into agreement with her mad plan. Did she really think she could wait _years_ for him? That it would be worth it to give up her chances with other men for the sake of him? No, it was more likely that she would quickly realize the enormity of what she'd agreed to and change her mind. She would meet someone and back out of this with her heartfelt apologies.

But that was later. Now, in this one moment, she was willing to wait for him. She wanted him enough to forgo all others in favor of him. Only him. It was insane. Ridiculous. Impossible. And in that moment, he loved her for it. He buried both hands in her hair and kissed her desperately. Wildly. Hungrily.

At first she seemed almost taken aback at the fervency of his kiss, but then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping her anchored to this world. She met him stroke for stroke, giving as good as she got. By the time they broke apart, she was panting, her cheeks flushed and body ready for far more than just a kiss. He disentangled one of his hands from her hair to stroke her bottom lip with his thumb.

"Run along now, little _femina_ _demens_."

Hermione grinned, turned on her heel, and left the room. Madwoman, indeed...


	7. Chapter 7

It came as no surprise to Minerva that Hermione was ready to take her NEWTs. She'd actually been rather surprised that the girl hadn't requested to take them as soon as the option arose, without the tutoring. It hadn't been until watching the exchange between Hermione and Snape in the banquet hall over the evening feast that she'd gotten an idea of what had prompted her former student to receive tutoring for tests she could easily pass. It had been so subtle that anyone who didn't know them both extremely well might have missed it, but the way they'd looked at each other had spoken volumes to Minerva.

She'd made the mistake of not paying close enough attention to Severus Snape to know his true motivations once before. And she prided herself on never making the same mistake twice.

At first, she'd been somewhat shocked at Hermione's interest in the dour ex professor. But when she'd really thought about it, the two of them were rather well matched. Of course, if he'd had any designs upon her when she'd been at school, the whole thing would have been atrocious. There was no chance that was the case, though. Snape had seemed just as confused about Hermions'e choice as Minerva had first been. It was obvious that whatever was developing between them made him uneasy. And the fact that Miss Granger was now dropping out of her tutoring sessions to take her tests immediately led her to believe that one or both of them was uncomfortable with their relationship proceeding while she was still receiving instruction from him. Unless she was gravely mistaken, Minerva thought it safe to assume that Snape was the one who'd objected.

She was glad to hear, at least, that Hermione planned to start university as soon as possible. Though the current semester had already begun, she knew for a fact that there wasn't a single wizarding university that wouldn't accept the girl immediately. It was good that the level headed Miss Granger wasn't putting her education aside for romance. Not that she thought Snape would have approved in the slightest of her giving up her future for whatever was between them. Snape had always been very proud of his own Potions Master title so she would have been very surprised indeed if he hadn't wanted the same equivalent for Hermione in her chosen field.

The tests were arranged for the very next day, as all staff would be in residence. She wished Hermione good luck, and sent the young woman on her way.

Hermione only stopped to think about the events of the morning once she'd gotten back to her dormitory. When she'd woken up, her only thoughts had been about making sure that Snape was alright, and not still upset about what had happened between them. She hadn't imagined that she would be packing her things getting ready to leave the castle only a few hours later.

Was she really willing to wait _years_ for Snape?

The enormity of the agreement she'd made suddenly crashed down on her. Even with as bright as she was, it would truly be years before she finished her schooling. She doubted that Snape would want to have conjugal visits over holidays. Not only was she resigning herself to celibacy, but also pinning her hopes on a relationship that might not work out. She knew a lot of things about Severus Snape, but she had no idea how he would be as a romantic partner. Did he leave his socks on the floor? Did he leave the toilet seat up? Would he be able to handle the meticulous way she organized her things? Would he mind living with a cat?

Doing things this way jumped over so many important parts of courtship. She was basing all this on the assumption that she and Snape would work as a couple. Not just sexual compatibility- which she already knew they had, if last night's encounter was any indication at all- but also how they would do in day to day life together. Because she wasn't putting her love life on semi permanent hiatus simply for a roll in the hay. This wasn't just about getting a leg up. She truly cared for Snape... The big gamble was whether or not, once she'd returned, they could make a go of things as a real couple.

Despite her fears for the future, Hermione couldn't help but be excited. She was taking her NEWTs tomorrow. By weeks end, she would be at university. And however unconventional their arrangement might be, she was finally in a relationship with Snape. She might hate to temporarily give up the sexual chemistry between them, but to have the man's mind- and dare she say his heart?- were far more important things.

She unrolled their two way parchment to let him know her tests had been arranged, and was surprised to see that writing was beginning to appear on it.

 _I wanted you to know that I did not mean the comment I made earlier, while we were arguing. About you spreading your legs for me. Not that you aren't the first in a long time, but-_

This was promptly crossed out. As soon as it faded away, another took it's place.

 _I feel I should apologize for what I said about only wanting you because you opened your legs for me. It was crass and not at all what I feel. I'm sorry that-_

This, too, was crossed out. For several minutes, the parchment sat blank. Hermione wondered if he realized that his half finished apologies were coming through to her. She doubted it. He was too much a perfectionist to willingly let her see him fumble so. She was about to take pity on him and tell him what was happening, when more words appeared.

 _Miss Granger, the events of the morning have been foremost in my mind. I have gone over every word we spoke to each other in the minutest detail. What you are proposing is madness, pure and simple. I would be lying if I said that the idea did not appeal to me. Half my life has been spent in stasis, waiting to play my part in a much bigger drama. The idea that someone, no matter how foolish it is, now wants to wait for_ me, _is flattering to say the least._

 _I am not saying that I don't think this experiment of yours won't crash and burn spectacularly. You will soon realize the error you have made, if you haven't already. But in the interim, I have decided to allow myself to enjoy the feeling. If you know anything about me at all, it should be that I am a harsh, demanding, cruel man. Those things will continue to be true, no matter how much either of us might wish it otherwise. I make no apologies for it._

 _I would, however, like express my regrets about one comment I made in particular this morning. I crudely suggested that the only reason I had any interest in you was as the first partner willing to bed me in a long while. While I will admit that perhaps part of my eagerness last night, and the ensuing inability to preform properly, did indeed spring from the fact that it has been far too long since I laid with a woman, you need to know that had nothing to do with my attraction to you. For me to suggest as much was, as you said, beneath even me._

 _I live my life unapologetically, but that does not mean that I cannot, on occasion, ask forgiveness when I know I have erred so grievously. So before we go any further, please let me ask your forgiveness for letting my anger, my fear, my discomfort, drive me to say things I did not mean._

 _SS_

Hermione sat back and read his message again, wishing not for the first time that she could keep the words from disappearing. She would have liked to preserve those paragraphs and taken them out to reread when things between them grew strained or complicated. He could be so eloquent, so disarming, when he wanted to be. The fact was that in all the craziness of the morning, she'd forgotten his stinging comment. Even as he'd spoken the cruel words she'd known he hadn't meant them. They had moved on and what he'd said had faded from her mind. That they had haunted him enough for him to bring them up- and that he'd _apologized_ for saying them, said volumes about his feelings for her.

Those words, more than perhaps anything else in their interactions together, told her that she was making the right decision to wait for him.

 _I know you are not a man prone to making apologies, and I appreciate how much it took for you to make this one. Thank you for it. I knew you did not mean the comment when you made it. Your temper might be a point of contention between us in the future, but for now, I understand that it is your first instinct to lash out when you feel uncomfortable._

 _This situation hasn't been easy for you, and I appreciate the concessions you've made for me already. I hope that we can continue to meet in the middle when problems arise between us. Especially since make-up sex is off the table for the foreseeable future..._

 _I spoke to Minerva and she has arranged for me to take my NEWTs tomorrow. Normally it is at least a week before results are back, but as this is a special circumstance, she has assured me that I should get them no more than a day or two later. I have already owled a few schools to see about mid-semester acceptance. I have my preference, of course, but I would be happy to be accepted by any of the universities that I've written to. It seems likely that I will be out of the castle by the end of the week. When I find out any more news, you will be the first to know._

 _Yours,_

 _HG_

 _What schools have you written to? You should have letters of recommendation sent along. I know that myself, along with several other of your professors, would be able to provide glowing praise without the least amount of exaggeration required._

 _Which is your first choice? You will obviously be able to take your pick of universities._

 _SS_

 _I've owled the wizarding staff at Oxford, as well as Harvard in America. Braxtons in Australia and St Edward's in Holland also. Minerva gave me her recommendation letter already, but I haven't gotten any from the rest of the staff. I didn't want to put anyone on the spot since I am going about this so suddenly. And I'm rather surprised that you'd be willing to give me a glowing recommendation considering the circumstances. But I may take you up on your offer, if nothing else just to have written proof of your praise._

 _As far as curriculum goes, Oxford is my first choice, as I would like to make wizarding law my primary area of study. Braxtons doesn't have quite the same rigorous program, but it would be close to my parents. They don't remember me, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't like to be near them. Perhaps even get a part time job at their dental practice to have the chance to see them... Besides, there would be plenty of hands on experience with unusual magical creatures in Australia, which is what will be my secondary area of study._

 _Really, though, they all would be fine options. Considering the late entry, I will be happy to get acceptance from any of them._

 _Yours,_

 _HG_

 _As I would not need to stretch the truth or let sentiment cloud my judgment in any way, I would see no conflict of interest in providing a recommendation. Indeed, I wouldn't be surprised if mine wasn't the most critical of the letters. Should you desire it, my recommendation will be at your disposal. If you will be keeping it only for your vanity and not to actually send to a university, of course, you can consider my offer rescinded. Your head is already filled enough with knowledge. We musn't go filling it needlessly with pride._

 _Oxford does have an excellent law program. If you want to work in the Ministry or in the International Tribunal, getting your degree from there would not go amiss. Braxtons is a suitable substitute, especially considering your secondary study, and I'm sure the draw of your parents is great. Both would be wise choices._

 _I have not had the opportunity to give you my condolences about your parent's memories. Making the choice to obliviate them for their own safety took courage and selflessness that not many possess. Considering the circumstances, your decision likely saved their lives but I am sure it was not easy. In that, at least, you_ should _take pride._

 _SS_

 _Thank you for that. It was a terrible choice to have to make, but in the end it was the only one I could. There simply wasn't a way to keep them safe, especially while I was off hunting horcruxes and unable to even keep them abreast of the events in the wizarding world._

 _That is the first time you've ever said you were proud of me. I can assure you that I will take it to heart._

 _Yours,_

 _HG_

 _You certainly don't need such sentiments from me for your self esteem.. However proud I am of you for your various achievements and choices is irrelevant._

 _SS_

 _Is it? I think we all crave the approval of those we care about, not matter how self assured we are._

 _I know I wanted to express to you many times how proud I was to have even known a man as courageous and selfless as you. Not because I thought you needed my approval in any way, but because your service shouldn't have gone unnoticed, nor should it have been thankless._

 _When was the last time someone told you that they were proud of you?_

 _Because I am, you know. So very proud of you for everything you've done._

 _Yours,_

 _HG_

Severus sat back and stared at the parchment. When _was_ the last time anyone had told him they were proud of him? His mother had certainly never said the words. Dumbledore hadn't. Perhaps once Slughorn had said it to him in that condescending way of his...

Part of him wanted to snarl at the idea of this little girl telling him she was proud of him. As if her opinion mattered to him. As if he cared. But despite the initial reaction he'd trained himself to have, underneath that, there was another part of him that was warmed by her praise. It wasn't the fawning drivel that Potter spouted. It wasn't fanatical worship like the papers perpetuated. It was just one young woman telling him sincerely that she was glad for all he'd done, and that she thought better of him for it.

How on earth was he supposed to respond to that?

In his childhood, he would have been bowled over with gratitude and dedicated his life to her. In his adolescence, he would have haughtily claimed that it was exactly what he deserved. In his adulthood, his instinct was to assume some trick and hence reject the flattery with hostility. But now, with Hermione, none of those reactions would do.

 _You continue to surprise me, Miss Granger. One of the reasons that I am so surly during our encounters is that you constantly put me off balance. You throw my carefully ordered life into chaos, and I am not accustomed to feeling uncertain. Perhaps more than anything, I despise weakness. Since I was raised to see compliments as cajolery and those that needed them as inadequate and pathetic, I tend to revile honeyed words._

 _However, since you have nothing you wish to gain from me by giving me such a compliment (except perhaps my body, an idea to which I am struggling to become accustomed) I shall strive to receive it with the humility and gratitude which it deserves._

 _Thank you, Hermione. No one in the last twenty years has said as much to me, and no one before has ever meant it quite the same._

 _SS_

 _You've admitted to me twice now that you dislike weakness or vulnerability of any sort. Do you mind if I ask why you've developed such a hatred for them? We have all felt helpless at some point in our lives..._

 _It makes me sadder than I can express that you have been so woefully under-appreciated in your life time. A fact that I will be rectifying as often as possible. You are a remarkable man, and deserve to be reminded of that fact._

 _I am certain that this is the first time you have ever used my given name. I almost hate to say anything, for fear you will realize your mistake and never use it again. I very much like having you call me by my name. Did you know that I used to hate my name? It is uncommon, and in the world, uncommon often is seen as undesirable. But seeing it written in your hand reminds me that unique can be a beautiful thing. I can only hope to hear it spoken in your voice some day._

 _Yours,_

 _HG_

 _Weakness is dangerous. If you are seeking approval from others, you can be led astray by their desires. If you display your every emotion, they can be used against you. Letting others see that you are vulnerable leaves you open to have those vulnerabilities exploited. My life has been an epithet of the dangers of weakness. When I make mistakes, I prefer to make them only once. I have learned from my years on this earth._

 _Do not think, Miss Granger, that I was unaware of my choice in using your given name. So there is no need to worry that you will 'jinx' it. I was attempting to follow the natural gravity of my sentiment. I cannot say that it will be a common occurrence, however, so try not to get your hopes up._

 _You needn't try and explain how the world reacts to uncommon- especially in terms of names. When was the last time you saw_ _ **Severus**_ _in the birth announcements? Pairing that with my rather unusual upbringing and it is no wonder I was fodder for Potter and his cronies. I too, though, have come to appreciate my name over time._

 _Hermione suits you._

 _SS_

Hermione felt herself warm right down to her bones at his compliment. He was a man that gave them so rarely that they were all the more special because of it.

 _Under the right circumstances, vulnerability does not have to be dangerous. With someone you care about, some you trust, letting your guard down can be liberating like nothing else._

 _While I wholeheartedly concede your point about the dangers of peer pressure on the susceptible mind, I also think such tendencies fade for most people. And then, the opinions and thoughts of others only hold the weight you allow them to. That includes their reactions to weaknesses you might display._

 _You are right, I have never seen your first name on another (outside of a few obscure history books). Nor do I think it would suit anyone else even half so well. I am curious though, what you mean by 'unusual upbringing.' I thought your mother was a witch and your father a muggle? Surely that's not such a strange combination-_

 _SHITE! Is that the time? I need to run, I have to get to London in ten minutes!_

Severus looked at the hourglass on his desk. It was nine minutes to six. Whatever she thought she needed so desperately, there was no way she would make it to the apparation point off school grounds, and then into London in-

The pill.

The pill she said she needed from the muggle apothecary to make sure she didn't get pregnant from their rendezvous last night! Would it work if she took it another day later? There was no chance she could make it on her own.

His blood ran cold at the thought of impregnating her. Saddling her with his unwanted bastard at her age, with her whole life ahead of her... He felt ill.

 _MEET ME AT THE ONE EYED WITCH STATUE_

Severus swirled his cloak over his shoulders and sprinted from the dungeons.

Hermione almost didn't read the parchment before dashing out of her dormitory. Thankfully, she spared a glance at it and raced toward the statue as instructed. When she rounded the last corner, she saw Snape running towards her at full speed. She didn't even have time to appreciate the sight before they crashed into each other.

"Hold onto me tightly," he demanded. She complied before she had a chance to ask him why. He vanished the glass in the window above them and then with another flick of his wand, they were _flying_ through it. Without a broom, they swirled through the air faster than Hermione could watch. She buried her face against his chest and let the world rush past her. A few moments later they landed outside the castle grounds. Hermione was going to exclaim about the remarkable feat of full flight and how gentle the landing, but Snape gave her no time. "Picture the apothecary in your mind. Very clearly, do you understand? Then picture it's location in London. Can you do that?" When she nodded, he tipped her chin up. "Look into my eyes."

She met his dark gaze and felt, faintly, an intrusion in her mind. She knew he'd used Ligimency on her before, but he was so skilled at it that she'd never actually felt his presence. Perhaps because he was so rushed, his intentions were more noticeable? Or merely that she was expecting it? "Are you ready?" he asked her. She nodded, wrapping her arms around him tighter. His own came around her and pulled her securely to him before he apparated them to the alley behind the shop.

Hermione looked around and immediately recognized where they were. She took Snape's hand and led him around the corner and into the apothecary. The middle aged man behind the counter looked like he had already mentally checked out for the day. He barely noticed them when they approached. Hermione cleared her throat pointedly to get his attention.

"Yes?" He made a show of looking up at the clock, then back to the two of them.

"I need a morning after pill. Please," she added. Just because _he_ was being a wanker didn't mean she needed to be. He huffed out a sigh.

"You need to be at least sixteen to purchase emergency contraception. Do you have your ID with you?"

Hermione paled. Her muggle identification card was back at the castle! She looked up to Severus, panic written on her face. He looked from her, to the rather unhelpful apothecary and sized up the situation in an instant. His expression went from carefully blank to an open glower. The pharmacist blanched.

"She is obviously older than sixteen. If common sense isn't enough for you on that score, _I_ am most assuredly older than sixteen. Give her what she requires so we can leave you to your miserable little existence."

The nervous man looked from Snape to Hermione and back again, clearly wondering what the two of them were to each other but smart enough not to dare ask. He fumbled behind the counter for a moment and then pushed a small white box across to them. "That'll be thirty five pounds," he said in a somewhat small voice.

Severus went to stop Hermione from paying but realized that he had no muggle money on him. Cursing his stupidity, he could only watch her pull the notes from her ever-present bag and hand them across the counter. They were barely out of the shop before the proprietor locked the door and flipped the sign in the window to say _closed_. Hermione couldn't have cared less about his lack of hospitality, though. She tore open the box, popped the little pill out of it's cellophane packet, and headed for the ice cream shop across the street.

Inside smelled of vanilla and caramel. Suddenly much more relaxed, Hermione went to the smiling girl behind the counter and ordered two drinks. Snape made a snarling noise behind her, but Hermione pointedly ignored him. As soon as she got her cup, she tossed the pill into her mouth and washed it down. Satisfied that they were in the clear, she went to a table and flopped gracelessly into a seat. Snape followed, placed the second drink in front of her, and took his own seat much more formally. Hermione pushed the paper cup back towards him.

"That one's for you."

"I'll not have you buying me refreshments simply because I didn't have the presence of mind to bring my own muggle money. It is bad enough that you had to purchase your contraception on your own because of my poor foresight."

Hermione only laughed and nudged the cup closer to him. "It's only a fizzy drink, Snape. Certainly less expensive than that bottle of wine you ordered for us at the Vanishing Hare. Besides, it's rather unfeminist of you to think you are responsible for buying me contraception, you know."

"If I must forgo the title of _feminist_ in order to take financial responsibility for my actions, then so be it. I do, however, refuse to believe that the two are mutually exclusive. I can believe that you are just as capable, just as worthy, as any man and still wish to take care of you simply for the pleasure of doing so." He spoke as he eyed the soda in front of him.

"Drink," Hermione encouraged, pushing the cup even closer to him. He sighed, removed the lid and straw, and sipped from the rim. "I find it hard to believe that you'd take pleasure in buying a morning after pill, your views on feminism aside."

"If it will prevent you from destroying your life by begetting my spawn, I would do so with utter relish."

"'Begetting your spawn?' That's a strange way of looking at making a baby. And I wouldn't be destroying my life. It's not the right time, certainly, but loads of women have kids when they are young. If I handled keeping Harry and Ron from getting themselves killed while maintaining my grades at Hogwarts, I'm sure I could handle a baby and keep up my grades at university."

"Whatever your abilities, the point is moot now that you have taken that pill, correct? Did you take it in time for it to work?"

Hermione nodded. "Technically, you can take it up to seventy two hours after... after. But it's more effective the sooner you take it. I probably _could_ have waited till tomorrow to get it, but-"

"No reason to take that chance," Snape finished, nodding firmly. "You'll tell me when your menses resume and we can be one hundred percent certain?"

"Uh, sure," Hermione took a drink from her straw to hide her slight blush. She'd never heard a male talk about a period so casually before. "Do you really not want kids that badly?" she asked to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"What I want is completely irrelevant in this situation. What is best for you is that you do not have my bastard child squalling at you while you are at your studies."

"What a horrible thing to say about a baby!"

"We are not married. Any child conceived between us at the moment would, by definition, be a bastard."

"That's not a term anyone in polite society uses to describe children any more. There are plenty of unwed mothers, and their children grow up to be perfectly respectable."

"Be that as it may, let us be grateful that we are _not_ in that situation."

They sat in silence for a while, both finally having time to unwind from the sudden stress of the last half hour. Hermione was almost finished with her drink before she spoke again. "You never actually answered my question, you know. About whether you wanted kids. In the future, I mean."

"You have seen me around children, Miss Granger. You've experienced it first hand. I shudder to think what sort of father a man like me would be. My examples have been poor, my nature shaped to be contrary to the sort required for nurturing. While the idea of a part of me being carried on through progeny does have it's appeal, I think it best the Snape name dies with me."

Hermione studied him carefully, looking beneath the surface of his words. "I think you'd make a spectacular father," she told him honestly. His head jerked up as he stared at her in shock. "You'd be certain to pass along intelligence, a love of books, high standards, and a rigid moral code to your children. And despite what you may think, I know for a fact that you can be very tactile when you want. I've often thought that half of what a child really wants is to be held." She reached across the table and put her hand on his.

Severus stared at her small hand on his, the possibilities of what she said flashing so clearly in his mind. A little boy cursed with his nose, but blessed with his quick mind, crawling into his lap and demanding to be read a story. Just as easily came the image of a little girl with wild brown hair and eyes the color of fine whiskey throwing her arms around his neck and chanting 'up up up' in a child's singsong cadence. He cleared his throat and slid his hand out from under hers, tucking it inside his cloak.

"As I said earlier, the point is moot."

"I want kids some day," Hermione pressed, fully aware of the effect their conversation was having on him. "I used to think I wanted just one. I'm an only child, so I think it was just familiar. But after spending so much time with the Weasleys, I think I like the idea of a big family. Not as big as theirs," she laughed at the look of horror on his face. "But big enough that there's always activity and bustle. The children can be playmates for each other, and if they're in a row with one sibling, there's always another to play with." She realized she was staring off wistfully and brought her mind back to the present. "Of course, that's a long way out. Ideally, I want to have an established career and a solid relationship before I have kids. It's not necessary, but I do think it's easier that way. So obviously that's several years in the future."

"Obviously," Snape agreed softly. He couldn't seem to stop his mind from circling back to the idea of kids with Hermione. What was the matter with him? He'd had passing thoughts about children before, and the idea had never really appealed to him aside from in terms of longevity. But the picture she'd painted with only a few words, the feelings they conjured of warmth and vibrancy and _home_... There was such longing within him for those things suddenly that it made his chest ache.

His own unpleasant childhood coming back to haunt him in unexpected ways? Needing to fill the void left from neglectful parents by creating domestic bliss of his own?

What stupid ideas.

"Come, Miss Granger. I should get you back to the castle. Your day tomorrow will no doubt be busy." He held out his hand to help her up from her seat. She looped the strap of her bag over her wrist and took his hand. Once she was on her feet, though, she didn't release him. Instead, she laced her fingers with his and they left the shop like that, hand in hand. Back in the alley, Snape lifted his cloak for her to slide beneath. "Ready?" She nodded, more than happy to side-along with him even though now that she wasn't in such a rush she realized she could just as easily apparate herself. But she was glad to use the excuse to be close to him. Just like when she'd realized halfway back to the castle after they left the Vanishing Hare that she had a perfectly good cloak in her bag but hadn't wanted to give up their embrace to get it.

They landed back outside the castle grounds with only a slight jarring. Which reminded Hermione-

"Are you going to fly us back?"

He looked down at her, surprised. "Do you want me to? Most people do no care for broomless flying."

"It was incredible! I can't believe you can do it, let alone how smooth it was. Not like being on a broom at all. I've always hated flying on a broom."

"Likewise," he agreed.

"Maybe someday you'll teach me?"

He grimaced a little, recalling vividly his own instruction. The Dark Lord had not been a gentle teacher. "Perhaps."

"But for now, just a ride along if you don't mind." She smiled up at him, wrapping her arms more tightly around him. He found his own lips trying to match her gesture and scowled to cover it.

"As you wish." And then they were shooting through the air. Hermione kept her face tucked against his chest once more, not daring to look at the world swirling past her but instead enjoying the sensation of the wind in her hair and Snape's arms around her.

They landed all too soon at the castle doors. For a moment, Hermione thought Snape was going to kiss her as he looked down at her. But then the moment passed and he released her. "Until tomorrow, Miss Granger," he murmured softly.

"Tomorrow," she agreed, suddenly feeling like a teenager being dropped off after a first date. She shook off her shyness and pressed a kiss to his lips before turning and heading off to her dormitory.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day was indeed, busy for Hermione. Owls from all four universities arrived, bringing acceptance letters and sincere hopes that she would begin classes as soon as possible. That afternoon, Minerva summoned her to the headmaster's office to inform her that she had passed all of her NEWTs with flying colors. Not only that, but had succeeded in getting the highest combined scores in the school's history. The feast that night would be in her honor, and the next day she would be off to whatever university she picked.

Everything was going even better than she could possibly have hoped, but Hermione couldn't help but feel a little sad. She was leaving Hogwarts for the last time as a student of any kind. It was a little daunting, now that she was faced with it. For so long, Hogwarts had been a touchstone of sorts. A port in the storm, no matter how fierce it raged. And now she was leaving that behind for good. Her academic career had been fraught with peril of one kind or another, but she wouldn't have changed it for the world. What new adventures would this step bring?

The one that weighed most heavily on her mind, of course, was the agreement between her and Snape. All through the feast her eyes strayed to his over and over. Would he stay faithful to waiting for her as she would for him? Or would he, as she crassly suggested, 'fuck his way across Great Britain?' Despite meaning what she said about only wanting him to be happy, she couldn't help but hope that he waited for her too. She really was possessive as a romantic partner. Even if she and Krum hadn't been polar opposites, their relationship never would have worked out simply because she couldn't have handled thousands of love sick fans fawning over him. The idea of Snape with another woman... It left her feeling a little queasy. The body that had strained above hers so recently, the arms that had held her so tightly, the lips that had kissed her so desperately, on another woman?

She glared up at the head table and was gratified when Snape caught the look and sat back a little. Good. Let him be a little wary of her ire. Since he hated weakness so much, it only stood to reason that he admired her strength. Let him be reminded of just how strong she was, in mind and in will. They could make this work. She would ensure it.

The celebrating kept her up much later than normal, and by the time Hermione got up to her dormitory, she was exhausted. She checked the two way parchment, felt a pang of disappointment that it was blank, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning she barely had time to put on her clothes before her trunks and bags vanished from the room. No doubt the work of over eager house elves... She looped the strap of her beaded bag over her wrist and shrugged her rucksack on her shoulder. Though she hadn't expected a send off so early in the morning after the late festivities of the night before, every professor was waiting to say goodbye to her in the castle entryway.

There were a few tears, quite a bit of laughter, and a hug from everyone- including Trelawney. At the end of the line there was only Minerva and Snape.

"Good luck, dear. Don't forget to write, and do try to pop 'round for a visit from time to time. There's always a place for you at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Professor. That means the world to me."

"Minerva," she corrected with an indulgent smile.

"Minerva," Hermione agreed, grinning back at perhaps her favourite teacher. They hugged fiercely.

"Don't let him give you any guff," Minerva whispered. Hermione felt a blush rising, but fought it down. She should have known that the headmaster would figure out what was going on.

"I won't," she promised, pulling back. Then only Snape was left. He studied her carefully, his hands tucked inside his robes.

"Miss Granger," he greeted somewhat coolly.

"Sir."

"Oxford is a good choice. No doubt you'll find much happiness there."

"Maybe. I know I would if you'd agree to come visit me."

"Having your dour potions professor around would likely inhibit your ability to gain popularity of any sort."

"Then it's a good thing I don't give a hoot about being popular."

"Wise sentiments indeed," he agreed with a slight inclination of his head.

"I'm going to miss you."

"You'll be far too busy with your studies for any such nonsense."

Hermione shook her head. "I really will."

"Then you will just have to make due with prattling on through our parchment." Was it her imagination, or was there a hint of hope and eagerness under his sarcasm? She smiled.

"Oh I will. I guess this is goodbye for now."

"Indeed."

He inclined his head again, and Hermione only chuckled. Did he really think that was how she was going to leave things between them for an indeterminable amount of time? No, that wouldn't do at all. She threw her arms around his shoulders, going up to her toes to press a kiss to his lips. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden contact, then seemed torn as to whether he wanted to pull her closer or thrust her away. In the end, he did neither, too frozen in shock to make up his mind. Then Hermione untangled her hands from his hair, smoothed down her travelling robes, and marched off to the apparation point. She stifled a laugh as she heard whistles and cat calls behind her.


	9. Chapter 9

_If that goodbye was your form of a joke, I do not find it funny. I'll have you know that I had to endure endless questioning and congratulations from the rest of the staff all day. Bad enough that there is actually nothing for them to congratulate me_ about _. Were you still here, I would see to it that you were punished severely for such impertinence._

 _SS_

 _Well, then I can only lament that I am_ not _there, as I'm sure I would thoroughly enjoy your punishment. Spanking, perhaps?_

 _Yours, H_

 _Do you have naught on your mind but sex, woman? For shame. If you in any way expect to follow through with this mad plan of yours, I suggest you turn your thoughts to more chaste subjects. Your studies, perhaps._

 _Which reminds me, did you get a chance to speak to the headmaster about your timeturner, yet? McGonnegal assured me that you were instructed how to use one safely while you were at Hogwarts, but be certain to double check the regulations at Oxford and see that there aren't any that you might have missed. They are there for your well-being._

 _SS_

 _Normally, I am not a sex-maniac, no. But being around you lately has that changing. You are right, though, I should start to try and put sex from my mind now that I won't be getting any for a long while. Oh well. More focus to put into my classes._

 _And I did speak to Headmaster Turnbull about the timeturner. He assures me that it won't be any problem for me to use it to get to my extra classes. Apparently, they already have one or two other students who use one in the same manner and it has never caused any trouble. I will of course be careful not to get into any mischief. If I have no trouble keeping up with the classwork, I should be able to complete my degree much faster than the regular four year program. A fact for which I, and my sex drive, are most grateful._

 _Yours, H_

* * *

 _Did you know that Millard Fillmore married his teacher?_

 _H_

 _Why should I care that the 13_ _th_ _president of the United States married his teacher?_

 _S_

 _Because there is a precedent here. We are certainly not the first former student and teacher to become romantically involved. Nor did that relationship stop them from going on to have productive lives. Just thought I would remind you of that fact._

 _H_

 _If they are teaching you about the love lives of the American muggle government, your classes are woefully inadequate. I suggest you bring the matter up to the headmaster._

 _S_

 _Oh that wasn't something we learned in class. Just a tidbit I picked up from my own personal research._

 _H_

 _Fourteen classes this semester and you still have time for personal research? My but you must be stretching the limits of that timeturner._

 _S_

 _No more than usual, I assure you. But when one has no social life, one tends to have spare time to dedicate to reading. When the textbooks about animal husbandry start to get me turned on, then I know I'm in trouble..._

 _H_

 _Hermione, there is no reason for you to have no social life. Go, meet new people, make friends, go on dates. It is not in any way right for you to be sacrificing so much. Think of how much happier you would be if you put all this foolishness behind you._

 _S_

 _Have I mentioned how much I adore you using my given name?_

 _What will make me happy, is you. So I will maintain this 'foolishness' until such time as you declare me ready to start a real relationship. In the interim, I do not feel the loss of extraneous interaction with my peers as a tragedy. Though most of them are academically minded like myself, I still prefer a good book to a loud party any day of the week._

 _H_

 _There are parties there? Be certain to take extra precautions. Unscrupulous witches and wizards have been known to slip potions into unsuspecting victim's drinks and take advantage. Do you know how to send a patronus through your wand if you feel you are in danger?_

 _S_

 _Your concern is touching, but unnecessary. I have no intention of attending any of the parties that are thrown here. And at any rate, I would never drink from a cup that had been out of my sight even for a second, and Harry made sure that I knew how to send a patronus._

 _Did you ever attend any parties while you were studying to be a Potions Master?_

 _H_

 _I was more of a social pariah than a butterfly, as I am sure you can guess. The one party I was coerced into attending did not go well to say the least. I was quite happy to keep my head down and focus on my studies. If the same is true of you, then at least that one good thing will come of this asinine plan of yours._

 _S_

 _What happened at the party?_

 _H_

 _Unpleasantness that can befall those who do not take adequate precautions. A lesson I learned very well._

 _S_

 _You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But I would like you to feel comfortable enough with me to open up to me._

 _H_

 _I am not uncomfortable. The memory no longer has any power to unsettle me. It is utterly meaningless, aside from the wisdom that hindsight imparted to me. Something was slipped in my drink. I woke up rather battered in the quidditch locker room. I removed my memories of the time between. They were unnecessary. That is the whole of it._

 _S_

 _Oh, Severus, that's awful. I'm so sorry. It must have been terrible for you to willingly remove the memory of it. I hate that something like that happened to you._

 _H_

 _Do not apologize. You were not responsible; you owe me no sympathy. It is not a scar that I carry around, simply a part of my history. I told you, it has no meaning to me at all except as a lesson in watching out for myself. I only shared it with you in the hopes that it would drive my heeding of caution home to you, should you venture out to a party._

 _S_

 _I care about you. That means I can regret that something bad happened to you without being responsible for it. I wish that I could take all your sad memories away..._

 _H_

 _What a foolish sentiment. Then I would be left with no memories at all and would end up like that blathering idiot Lockheart._

 _S_

 _None at all? Not even the night we spent together?_

 _H_

 _Fishing for compliments, Miss Granger? Hardly your style. Perhaps that one memory would remain, and then I would simply be a shell of a man who's only recollection is one night of poorly executed passion with a woman half his age. Not something I would envy._

 _S_

 _Poorly executed? From what I recall, it was executed rather well. Well enough that I left scratches on your back and probably an indent of my arse on your side table._

 _H_

 _Thankfully, my table suffered no such calamity. My back, however, does indeed bear the marks of your ardor. Still, in terms of completing the act of coitus, my performance was lacking. Were I the sort of man to make excuses, I would say that considering the length of time prior to that night that I had a woman in my bed, I was lucky that I made it as far as I did before reaching completion._

 _S_

 _A good excuse if I ever heard one. And one that soothes my possessive spirit, too. Perhaps I'll fall asleep tonight to the thought of what it might have been like if we had gotten just a bit further..._

 _H_

 _Thoughts like that are hardly likely to lull you to sleep. I suggest counting sheep._

 _S_

 _But sheep are so much less...titillating._

 _H_

 _SLEEP, my_ femina demens. _Can't have you passing out in class tomorrow._

 _S_

 _Fine. I'll leave my fantasizing for the weekends. Goodnight, Snape._

 _H_

 _Sleep well, Miss Granger._

 _S_

* * *

 _I can't believe that prat gave me an M on my paper. Just because I disagree with him, does not make my point wrong! When he is teaching_ _ **opinion**_ _and not_ _ **fact**_ _, he cannot be angry that someone dares stand up to him! I've never received an M on anything in my life! If I didn't have so much on my plate, I would march down to the headmaster right now and demand to have a different professor grade my paper and give me a fair mark._

 _H_

 _Surely you are used to having a professor who grades you harshly for seemingly no reason...?_

 _S_

 _If that is your sarcastic way of reminding me that you often gave me poor marks, then it's a good thing we are conversing through this and not face to face or I would throw my bottle of ink at your head. You might not have always given me top marks for my essays because you felt they contained too much unnecessary information, but you never gave me as low a grade as an M just because you didn't like me. This is ridiculous and he knows it. He is just a wanker who doesn't know how to handle it when someone else has an intelligent opinion that disagrees with his._

 _H_

 _Such ire, Miss Granger. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you have a crush on this professor of yours. Your feelings about him must be strong indeed for you to have such a fervent opinion of him._

 _S_

 _Don't make me be sick on my desk. I am convinced Professor Warlow is part troll. Really, the man is a travesty to look upon. The only thing anyone could possibly find attractive about him would be his mind, and even that, while filled to the brim with knowledge, is closed and bigoted. Why he would want to work teaching when he so clearly despises it is beyond me._

 _H_

 _Part troll? A travesty to look upon? Seems to hate teaching? It seems this professor and I have a lot in common. Perhaps you see in him what you see in me._

 _S_

 _Severus Snape how dare you refer to yourself as a travesty to look upon. The difference between you an Warlow is night and day. You are tall and lean and arresting where he is short, fat, and has a face like a toad. The fact that you see yourself so poorly tells me that there are major issues with your self esteem that we need to work on._

 _Don't you know how handsome I find you? How attractive? My nights are filled with fantasies of getting to indulge in worshiping every inch of your body. You are always clean and sleek and smell divine. Just thinking about it is making me squirm in my seat._

 _No more insulting yourself. I mean it._

 _H_

 _I've been insulted all my life for my looks. Do not expect me to take you at your word when myriad before you have had the exact opposite opinion. Besides, your observations are so outrageous as to hardly be believed. Clean? The potion I use to keep my hair from getting into the brewing gives it a perpetually greasy look; unwashed adolescents have been making comments about my lack of hygiene for years. 'Divine' smelling? I know for a fact that I continually smell of potion ingredients. Witch hazel and feverfew are hardly the most appealing combination. Handsome is so unreal that I won't even deign to argue the point. Perhaps the most complimentary things you said that could even remotely be considered accurate were 'lean and arresting,' if by which you mean scrawny and strange._

 _I am under no illusions about the way I look. Nor should you be. If you think you want to try and enter into any kind of relationship with me, I expect you to be honest with yourself about it. Accept me for who I am, not for the fairy tale you wish to see._

 _S_

 _So you are the expert on what women find appealing? I had no idea you were such an accomplished Legilimens that you could read my mind from all the way at Hogwarts. How silly of me to think that I could have my own opinion._

 _Have you never heard the quote, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder?' I never claimed that you were the sort of man that would be featured shirtless on the cover of Witch Weekly. Just because you do not particularly appeal to the masses doesn't make you any less handsome in my eyes. I find your strength, your capability, your agility, your uniqueness, appealing._

 _Perhaps you are a bit too lean for your own good, but given your history, who could blame you? And despite a few brainless students calling you 'greasy git,' I've been able to tell since third year that you use smoothing tonic on your hair. I use a version of it myself. As for the way you smell, maybe you've inhaled a few too many fumes and it's addled your olfactory senses, because no one in their right mind wouldn't appreciate your scent. That and your voice are perhaps the two most physically attractive things about you, which is saying quite a bit considering all the things about you that I do find attractive._

 _H_

 _I can only assume that too much work has addled your mind. There is no point in arguing about this. Whatever I think of my appearance, your opinion is the only one that really matters in the end anyways. After all, I rarely have to look at myself. You are the one considering sentencing yourself to an indeterminable amount of time with me._

 _Returning to the original point, you will merely have to accept that there will be no pleasing this Warlow idiot and resign yourself to poor marks unless you are willing to agree with him simply for the sake of better grades. Keep in mind he cannot fail you completely just because your opinions differ from his. And soon enough you will be done with his class and never have to care about his opinions again._

 _S_

* * *

 _So... As of today we know one hundred percent that the pill worked._

 _H_

 _Thank Merlin._

 _It's really not my place to say, but you ought to be on a contraceptive potion._

 _S_

 _Since I'm not having any sex, I don't exactly see the point at the moment. Of course, when I graduate I will be needing one._

 _H_

 _There are many benefits of taking a well brewed contraceptive potion besides to prevent pregnancy. Surely Madam Pomfrey enumerated upon them in her sexual education lecture?_

 _S_

 _Actually, I found the entire lecture rather lacking in basic information. It focused mostly on the dangers of unprotected sex and various charms that can be used to prevent sexually transmitted infections. Almost all of what I know about sex I learned through my own research. Or hands on experience, depending on the subject._

 _H_

 _I would rather not have the image of you doing hands on 'research' concerning sex, thank you very much._

 _I am surprised that the school's curriculum is so lacking, though. There are many forms of contraceptive potions, several of which will ease the symptoms of your period and one which will cease it all together. They also have the added bonus of being rich in iron and calcium, two of the most often deficient minerals in women._

 _S_

 _Don't tell me the idea of me with other men makes you_ jealous _, Snape. I might actually begin to think you care._

 _The idea of not having to deal with my period is certainly appealing. Though the fact that I'm talking about it so casually with you is a bit unsettling._

 _H_

 _If you didn't think I cared, you wouldn't be hell bent on spending your days at university celibate for me._

 _Why should speaking about your menses with me unsettle you? Surely if you're comfortable having sex with a man, you're comfortable talking about your body's basic functions with him._

 _S_

 _It's not necessarily that_ _ **I**_ _am uncomfortable, but the vast majority of men shudder when periods are mentioned. At best they think them taboo subjects, at worst they find them disgusting._

 _H_

 _What stupidity. Why would it be disgusting? If you were to cut your leg, would that, too, be disgusting? With the very minor addition of endometrial cells, blood is blood. On a molecular level, it's actually very similar in composition to tears. Any man that tells you that your body's normal, regular functions are disgusting is merely a little boy uncomfortable with his own masculinity._

 _S_

 _Well I've never thought of it that way. You're right, of course. Thankfully for me, the only man I have cause to discuss my period with has a very blasé attitude about the subject._

 _H_

 _Indeed._

 _It will not do you any good this month, but if you would like, I can send you a potion by post owl for you to try. If you like it, I can send a supply of them._

 _S_

 _That is very kind of you, but you don't have to buy that for me. I'm sure there is a shop somewhere here where I can buy them. I would greatly appreciate your suggestion as to which one is best, though._

 _H_

 _I would not be buying the potion, Hermione, but brewing it myself. Where do you think Hogwarts got it's stores? There are doubtless several shops in Oxford that have them available, but in terms of your health, I would rather see to the matter myself if you are not opposed. It is no trouble to me in the least._

 _S_

 _In that case, I will take you up on your offer with my sincerest gratitude._

 _H_

* * *

 _Did you by any chance threaten Professor Warlow into giving me better marks?_

 _H_

 _What on earth would have given you that impression?_

 _S_

 _The last three papers I've turned in have gotten O's, and he's started calling me Miss Granger instead of 'hey you,' or 'bossy muggle-born.'_

 _H_

 _Well I'm glad he's started recognizing your hard work and stopped insulting you. But if you think I've got the time or inclination to to traipsing around the country threatening dotty old professors with bad toupees, then you are sadly mistaken._

 _S_

 _Snape?_

 _H_

 _What?_

 _S_

 _...I never told you he had a bad toupee._

 _H_

* * *

 _Tell me about your childhood._

 _H_

 _Why?_

 _S_

 _Why not? I've told you all about mine, and I don't imagine it was all that interesting to hear about being raised by muggle dentists. Besides, where we come from shapes who we are._

 _H_

 _Hearing about your upbringing was fascinating indeed. The muggle school you attended before Hogwarts sounds positively atrocious. How you learned even basic maths boggles the mind._

 _I can assure you that my upbringing had very little to do with the man I turned out to be._

 _S_

 _Our childhood impacts us more than we likely care to wish, whether for good or ill. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But I enjoy getting to know you, everything about you. You're my favorite subject, after all. History, government, Semi-Humaniod laws, All Things Snape._

 _H_

 _Fine. I grew up in a run down shack in the poor part of town. My only friend before Hogwarts was Lily Evans, and you know how that friendship ended. My father was a muggle who was an alcoholic and hated everything, myself and my mother included. My mother was cold and distant, with more interest in books than her child. I learned to take care of myself, avoid my father's drunken rages, and eventually found a safe haven at Hogwarts. After I joined the Death Eaters, my mother left my father and changed her name so as not to be in any way associated with him or me. Not so much because she was opposed to the Dark Lord, but rather that she had grown weary of both the useless men in her life and wanted to cast us off for good. My father died when I was twenty three. I did not attend his funeral. Make of that what you will._

 _S_

 _I am sorry your parent's couldn't see the gift they'd been given in a child as special as you. Perhaps such a hard upbringing is what gave you the strength to handle the difficult years during and between the wars. I don't blame you for not attending your father's funeral. Considering the circumstances, I'm not sure I would have done different were I in your shoes._

 _Did you and your mother ever reconcile, later on? I find it hard to imagine having to be civil to such a callous woman over family dinner, though I would attempt to be for your sake._

 _No, maybe it's better if I never meet her after all. I doubt I could hold my tongue._

 _H_

 _No, we did not reconcile. It will perhaps surprise you, though, that you have already met the woman who gave birth to me. Many, many times I would imagine considering how often you were at the library. Did Madam Pince's hook nose and swallow skin never seem familiar to you?_

 _S_

 _Irma Pince? The librarian at Hogwarts?_ _ **She**_ _is your mother? The woman is a shrew! No offense intended, of course, but... I can't believe that all these years I never knew that! How is it that you worked in the same place for so long but never reconciled?_

 _H_

 _No offense taken. She refused to recognize me in any way when she came to Hogwarts, and I returned the favour. I've often thought that Dumbledore hiring her in the first place came from an ill fated attempt to force the two of us together rather than for her skills managing the stacks- though admittedly, her fanatical love of books does make her perfect for the job. But I mean nothing to her, and she has come to mean very little to me._

 _S_

 _That is very, very sad for her. She is missing out on having a wonderful man in her life._

 _H_

 _She does not see it that way, and at this point even if she did I am not sure I would be forgiving enough to let her._

 _S_

 _This may seem like an impertinent question... but did she really make her new name by rearranging two letters from 'I'm a Prince?'_

 _H_

 _Indeed she did. Which is a perfect example to demonstrate that obsession with books does not necessarily make one clever._

 _S_

* * *

 _You didn't respond to my message last night. Is everything alright?_

 _S_

 _Yes, sorry. I got back from class late and fell asleep. I didn't even change out of my clothes. It's likely going to be another night like that tonight. I'd hate to think of you waiting up for me while I'm already asleep in bed. The weekend is coming up, though, and I should have more free time then. Maybe we could talk through the floo? It's been too long since I've seen your face._

 _H_

 _You know that if you were going out and spending time with your classmates, you could tell me, don't you? I've told you from the beginning that this plan of yours is madness. You can't be expected to forgo any kind of social interaction for my sake. I'll not hold it against you if you've decided that this is too much to handle._

 _S_

 _Truly, Severus, there is no one else. I wouldn't have the time for anyone else, even if I were so inclined, and I'm not. I've just got so many classes that by the time I've finished my reading and assignments for one, the others have piled up and before I know it I'm staying up all night trying to catch up. When I get up in a late class and don't have any homework, I end up passing out to take advantage of a few hours of rest._

 _I've never lied to you about my intentions towards you, and I never will._

 _H_

 _Have you taken on more than you can handle, little_ femina demens _? Perhaps you should drop a class in favour of getting a little more sleep. If you push yourself too hard, you are going to end up burned out. The time you will lose recuperating will be far greater than the time you are saving taking on so much extra work. I hate to think of you putting yourself at risk simply to get back to me more quickly._

 _S_

 _I'll think about it, I promise. Maybe taking on those last two classes were a bit much. If I am still feeling so overwhelmed by next week I might consider dropping one._

 _Do you think you would have time to floo this weekend? I miss you terribly._

 _H_

 _Professor Troudt has been pestering me with invitations to lecture in his class; perhaps instead of a floo conversation, I can take him up on his offer and spend the weekend with you._

 _S_

 _ **YES! YES YES YES!**_ _Please do! When will you arrive? Will they allow you to stay in my room? How long will your lecture be? I have three classes Saturday morning and two more Sunday afternoon, but I'll see if I can get my classwork for them ahead of time and skip them._

 _H_

 _And here I thought I might not be welcome..._

 _I will owl Professor Troudt directly. Should he have no objections, I would arrive Friday mid morning and spend the day lecturing. I assume I would be done by five. After that, the rest of the weekend is yours. Of course it would be absolutely inappropriate for me to stay in your room. You do get points for effort, though._

 _If it is going to burden you more, don't trouble yourself with trying to take on extra work so you can skip your weekend classes. I can find something to do with myself while you are occupied, and enjoy what free time you do have. I'll be sure to bring along a few books with me to fill the time. There are also several books in the Oxford library I would enjoy rifling through._

 _Can we arrange to have dinner together after your last class on Friday?_

 _S_

 _Oh well, you can't blame a girl for trying._

 _I would love to have dinner with you on Friday. My last class finishes at six. We could meet in the apple orchard behind the library and then go to dinner._

 _H_

 _Sounds delightful. I am looking forward to it._

 _S_

 _You're sure I can't talk you into staying in my room?_

 _H_

 _Go to bed, Hermione._

 _S_


	10. Chapter 10

Friday morning Severus woke up far more excited than he was willing to admit. It had been much too long since he'd seen Hermione. Nearly six months of writing through the two way parchment and the occasional floo conversation. His anticipation of the event was only rivaled by his trepidation. He was only getting older. She was likely becoming more beautiful with every passing day, while he had just discovered a silver thread of hair at his temple. Thankfully since he'd never let his emotions show much in his face, he was spared at least wrinkles. But even that wouldn't last forever.

He had spent nearly every night for the last six months dreaming of Hermione. Each fantasy was more alluring than the last. And even though he couldn't deny that they had some rapport in writing, he knew there was no way he would have that same unaffected manner with her in person. Would she be disappointed when they finally had an evening together?

And every time these worries shuffled to the fore, he despised himself for his weakness. What was the matter with him? Staring at himself in the mirror wondering how a woman half his age would see him? Worried she wouldn't approve of him? It was ridiculous. He shouldn't care what the devil she thought of him. But no matter how much he wanted to hide behind his shield of indifference, it was impossible not to admit that he _did_ care. He cared very much.

Because he cared about her.

Perhaps if he'd actively tried to fight it, he could have held out longer against her charms. But he hadn't resisted at all. What was the point? She was everything he could have ever hoped for in a partner and more. The fact that she was young, beautiful, and madly in lust with him were the icing on top of a delicious, Hermione shaped cake.

He shrunk his formal frock coat and waist coat and put them in his small Gladstone bag along with a few books. Because it would be easier than sending them by owl, he also added Hermione's next month of contraception potion as well as the silver wrapped box that he had convinced himself was _not_ a token of affection, but just a small gift any professor might give to a former student to show they were proud of them.

With nothing else to do, he flooed to Headmaster Turnbull's office at Oxford ten minutes early. He was greeted with a handshake and the requisite small talk, then left to go on his way after turning down the insincere offer of an escort. As he walked to Troudt's lecture hall, Snape couldn't help but scan the halls, hoping for a glance of Hermione. He knew, of course, that she would be in class. If the mental map he had of the place matched the real layout, she was on the other side of campus anyways. But that didn't stop him from looking, just in case.

Troudt greeted him warmly and took no offense at all when his warmth wasn't returned. The man was so surprised that Snape had actually accepted one of his many offers that he was just grateful that the Potions Master was there at all. While the jovial Troudt chattered on about the class sizes and how delighted the students would be, Severus double checked to make sure that the projection lens and cauldron were in good working order. A few minutes later, students began to file into the room and he spoke about the merits of experimentation with various methods of ingredient preparation and what safety measures should be taken.

The afternoon dragged slowly, only broken up by the occasional question from a student that was less stupid than the rest. By the time five o'clock rolled around, Snape was waspish with impatience to get to Hermione. Even the ever patient Troudt was glad to see the anxious professor on his way.

After stopping by the guest room he'd been given to change out of his school robes and into his dinner jacket, Severus headed out to the orchard behind the school. The apple buds were just beginning to bloom, creating a beautiful field of red, pink, and white petals. He paced up and down the rows, checking the time again and again. When it finally reached six, he reminded himself that she would likely want to go and change her clothes before she came outside, so he would have to wait a little-

Hermione came flying out the library's back door. When she saw him, she dropped her bag and sprinted to him, a radiant smile on her face. Sunshine on snow. Severus didn't even try and stifle the smile that rose to his own lips. He didn't care. Couldn't be bothered to care. He took two steps, then trotted the third and fourth, and by the fifth he was running at her just as fast as she was coming towards him.

They crashed into each other and clung there. Her hair was a wild halo around them. For long moments she kept her face buried against his neck, her arms clutching his shoulders, not even realizing that she'd wrapped her legs around his waist and he was holding her up. He hugged her tightly to his chest, glad to finally have her in his arms. When she turned her head, their lips met and they kissed. At first it was just a fervent press of their lips, and then suddenly they parted and their tongues began to twine. Somehow without him realizing it, Severus had moved them under one of the trees and he had Hermione's back pressed against the bark. Her hands slipped inside his coat and she moaned, legs tightening around his waist.

He forced himself to break the kiss, realizing all at once that they were out in the open for anyone to see. One of his hands had somehow snaked beneath her skirt and he removed it somewhat sheepishly. When he set her down on her feet, her cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated. "Hi," she murmured somewhat breathlessly.

"Hello," he greeted, trying to get his legs to cooperate and move backwards away from her. They stayed firmly planted, keeping them only a hands breadth apart, his head bent down so their foreheads touched.

"I've missed you so much. I can't believe you're really here."

"You'd think the kiss would have been proof enough."

She shook her head. "That makes it even harder to believe. Are you sure I'm not asleep in the library again and this is all just a very pleasant dream?" Severus lifted his hand and pinched the tip of her nose. She wrinkled it and grimaced. "Ow. Okay, so not a dream. You're really here."

"Indeed."

"I'm so happy." She smiled and went up to her toes to kiss him again. Unable to resist, Snape framed her face in his hands and kissed her back. She was addictive, his _femina demens_. There was no denying that.

"Me too." Movement off to their right caught Severus' eye and he stepped back from her slightly as a student walked past, nose in a book. "I was actually not expecting you for another few minutes at least. I figured you would want to change first."

"Oh! I do." She looked down at her school skirt and made a face. "I just couldn't wait. Do you mind coming up to the dormitory with me so I can put something else on?"

He looked at her with one brow raised. "As long as this isn't your way of trying to trick me into your bed."

Hermione gasped in mock shock. "Me? Try and trick you? Perish the thought. I doubt I could out-Slytherin the head of Slytherin. It's an awfully nice thought, though. Would it work?" She waggled her brows at him. He chuckled and tried to scowl, but failed spectacularly.

"No, it would not. As soon as these clothes come off, new ones are going right back on."

"Fine," she huffed, taking his hand and leading him up to her rooms. "Where do they have you staying?"

"The guest wing by the Arithmancy labs. And before you ask which room, I'm not telling you. It's hard enough to resist you out in the open, let alone if you sneak into my bed in the middle of the night."

"Spoil sport."

"Tart."

"You love that about me."

"And so modest, too."

She blew a raspberry at him and opened the door to the room she'd stopped in front of. Severus followed her inside and realized there was hardly space for two people. There was a bed with her trunk pushed under it, a small desk beneath an even smaller window, a door on his left open to reveal the smallest lavatory he'd ever seen, and a cupboard on the opposite wall.

"The most prestigious university in all of Great Britain and _this_ is how they house their students?"

Hermione shrugged. "This is the way the private dormitories are. The double or triple rooms are much bigger, but I figured I'd rather have my own area rather than a larger space. I don't have to worry about keeping anyone else up when I'm studying late, or anyone else keeping me up when I'm trying to sleep." She shrugged out of her jacket and slipped it over the back of the chair. When she bent to pull her trunk out from under the bed, her blouse pulled taut over her back and Severus could see the ridges of her vertebrae. His eyes narrowed.

She straightened, and he pulled her into his arms again. Hermione melted into the unexpected embrace, unaware of his ulterior motives. Now that the shock and urgency of seeing her for the first time in so long had passed, Snape studied her. She was thinner than the last time he'd held her. He hadn't even noticed her weight when he'd lifted her before because she hardly weighed anything at all. Her hair was more disheveled than usual. When he pulled back, he saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes and the crease lines on her forehead. He smoothed one with the pad of his thumb and sighed.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"What?"

"You're not taking care of yourself."

"Of course I am."

"When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep? Or ate a full, proper meal?"

"Well I-" she stopped and frowned. "I'm sure it was..."

"If you have to think about it, then it's been too long." He shook his head and gestured for her to go change. She kissed him on the cheek as she passed to the loo.

"I'm fine, really," she assured him. He didn't believe her. He wanted to be furious with her. She was an intelligent, independent woman. She ought to be able to take care of herself! If she couldn't meet her basic needs of rest and nutrition, then she shouldn't be off on her own. But the nagging feeling of guilt wouldn't leave him alone. She was only taking so many classes so that she could get back to him sooner. If he hadn't put this arbitrary condition on their relationship, she wouldn't be rushing to graduate so quickly.

But that wasn't necessarily true, either. She'd used a timeturner to take extra classes at Hogwarts, too. It wasn't as if she was a regular student who had a hard enough time handling the basic seven classes. Even if he wasn't in the picture at all, she would be pushing herself to her limits just because she could.

So what was he supposed to do? If he charged into the situation with his temper flaring and demanded she take better care of herself, he'd bungle the whole thing. She would likely be offended at his implication that she couldn't take care of herself and they would fight. He didn't want to bollocks up the whole weekend. But he couldn't just ignore the level to which she'd neglected herself. It simply wasn't acceptable.

She came out of the lavatory and interrupted his thoughts completely. She was wearing a sheath dress that was a simmering silver and matching heels. Her beaded bag had been charmed black and was looped over her wrist. She did a little turn in the cramped space and flashed him an uncertain smile. "What do you think? Will it work for wherever we're going?"

"You look beautiful, as always," he assured her. She blushed a little and grinned.

"Well the, lead the way, _maestro_."

He wrapped both arms around her and apparated them to Banbury road. They stepped out of the alley and walked only a few feet before he tapped his wand against a blackened, ancient looking pane of glass. The window elongated and solidified until it was a proper door. Before Snape could open it, it opened for them and a maitre'd greeted them.

Snape gave the slender wizard his name and they were led to a table in a corner with a lit candle on it. He pulled out her chair for her and took his own once she was settled. The waiter arrived shortly after and Severus ordered a bottle of wine while Hermione looked at her menu. Before he poured the glasses she snatched the bottle and looked at the label in mock suspicion.

"No need to worry, I don't have any reason to try and get you drunk tonight. I should be checking to make sure _you_ don't try and get me drunk to get your revenge."

"Me?" She batted her lashes at him innocently.

"Yes, you," he insisted, not believing her act for a moment. She pouted, then sipped her wine.

"It's very good."

"I have excellent taste in wine."

"And so modest," she tossed his words from earlier back at him with a laugh.

"Of course."

They ordered- Hermione forcing herself not to look at the outrageous prices- and then lapsed into silence. Severus sipped his wine while Hermione fiddled with the strap of her bag. "I wondered if we would have much to talk about in person, after all that time only writing to each other," he admitted softly.

"I did too. I worried that with as open as you've been through our writing, you'd be uncomfortable when we got face to face."

"I don't regret anything I've shared with you."

"No, but sometimes it's hard to face someone who knows so much about you. Someone who really _sees_ you. It's like..."

"Being naked," Severus finished for her. She nodded, glad he understood what she meant.

"I also worried you wouldn't want to kiss me, but obviously that was an unfounded fear."

"I'll admit that it wasn't my intention to snog you first like a horny teenager."

"I'm glad you did."

"I can't say I regret it either." Their conversation was interrupted briefly as the waiter brought them their meals. Hermione nearly moaned out loud as she took the first bite of her steak. He was right, she'd been living on boxed meals heated with spells for too long. "What time are your classes tomorrow?" he asked between bites of his own meal.

"I have Advanced International Wizard Rights at seven thirty and Environmental Law at nine. Normally I have Legal Ethics at ten thirty but I've already got my work for that, so I'm all yours by then."

"Lovely. Is there anything specific you'd like to do while I'm here?"

She raised both brows at him and gave him a wolfish smile. "I can think of one to two things."

"Aside from _that_."

"Nothing specific, barring _that_. Just spend as much time with you as I can. I'll have to do some homework at some point, but I'll be as quick as possible."

"There's no need to rush. I wanted this weekend to be relaxing for you, not one more thing for you to stress about."

"I know, I know. But I don't want to waste any of the time I've got you for."

In an uncharacteristic display of affection, he reached across the table and took her hand. "As long as we are in the same room, even if you are doing work and I'm reading, time we spend together isn't wasted." Hermione hummed a little in happiness and laced her fingers with his.

As they finished their meals, Severus shared a story about Luna's latest antics- she'd begun hiding potted plants around the dungeons to 'keep the willynillers company'- and Hermione told him about the book she was reading for her History of the Ministry class. When she claimed to be far too full to eat dessert, Severus ordered a double portion. One for them to share and one for her to take back to her dorm. After he paid, they left the restaurant and walked around Summertown hand in hand.

Despite their mutual fears that they would be uncomfortable talking with one another, they lapsed into easy conversation. There were times where Severus was more formal than she was used to, and times when she was more reserved than usual, but overall it was much better than either of them expected.

When the sun started to set, Snape apparated them back to the university and walked Hermione to her room. "You're sure I can't talk you into staying?"

"I can assure you that there is no way I would fit on that bed. I'm surprised even you by yourself fit on it."

"We could press very close together. For warmth."

Severus kissed her on the forehead. "Goodnight, Hermione." She sighed, pulling him down by the lapels of his jacket and kissing his lips.

"Goodnight."

He watched her slip inside her room and counted to ten before he trusted himself to go towards the guest wing instead of following her inside her room.

/

* * *

The next morning, Hermione found herself hardly able to focus on her classes. She was so anxious to go see Severus that she wondered if she shouldn't have just skipped them anyways since she was getting so little out of the lecture. By ten fifteen she was tapping her foot impatiently and bemoaning the amount of homework she needed to do. Snape would likely want to go out somewhere; after all, it was a beautiful day out. But she really needed to at least get her papers started, and there was the Ancient Runes project she had to have finished by Monday...

When she saw him waiting for her outside the library, though, all those worries fell away. She practically skipped into his arms. He lifted her up, spun her around, and kissed her as he sat her down. "Moaning Merlin, what do you have in that bag? It practically weighs more than you do!"

"Just my books for my morning classes. Oh and my Care of Magical Creatures text book. Just for some brushing up."

"I'm surprised your bag hasn't shredded under the strain."

"It may have a charm or two on it to keep it together."

"Why don't we go in and you can set it down." He gestured her into the library. She went in, but turned and spoke in a low voice.

"I thought you would want to go out somewhere this afternoon."

"Later, perhaps. For now I'm sure you have plenty of work that awaits you."

"But-"

"I told you, I am not here to burden you further. Do what is most pressing. It's not as if I'll want for reading material to pass the time. We are standing in the largest university library in all of England."

"You're sure?" she looked at him uncertainly.

" _Yes,_ " he insisted emphatically.

"Alright, then." She led them to an alcove with a desk and lamp. As she started to spread out her papers, he browsed the stacks. When he found one he was interested in, he pulled a squashy chair up to the desk she was working at and began to read.

They passed several hours in companionable silence. Severus read his book with his feet propped up while Hermione wrote, her quill moving with such rapidity across the parchment that Severus commented that her handwriting could hardly be legible at that speed. She admitted that the quill had been spelled to write neatly, no matter how quickly it moved, because as she wrote the words formed in her head faster than her hand could comprehensibly write them out. He quipped that he wished several of his students through the years would have had such a spell on their quills and they lapsed back into silence after a brief laugh.

By two o'clock she had completed both of her papers as well as put the finishing touches on her Ancient Runes project. She still wanted to read two more chapters in her Care of Magical Creatures book and finish looking over her notes for her History of the Ministry test on Monday, but they could wait. She stretched, packed her things back into her bulging satchel and stood up. Her back cracked in three places.

"And I thought mine was bad," Snape said sarcastically. She glared at him and tried to protest when he took her bag from her, but he wouldn't hear of it. "I can carry it until we get to your room. You'll want to drop it off and change into muggle clothing for where we're going."

"Oh? Where are we headed?"

"It's a surprise." He kept quiet about where he was taking her despite her peppering him with questions the whole way back to her room. She was still asking him to give her hints when she stepped inside the lavatory to change. She hadn't closed the door all the way, though, and when he turned to check the time, he caught a glimpse of her sliding jeans up over her hips. He swallowed hard and looked away.

When she came out she looked pointedly at his ensemble and his brows drew together in consternation. "What? This is acceptable muggle attire."

"For a funeral, perhaps."

He scowled. "At least I'm not in my formal frock coat." When she continued to look at him, he shrugged out of his jacket and held out his arms for her inspection. In only his waistcoat, he looked very fit, if a bit stern. She unbuttoned the three black buttons on each of his shirt sleeves and rolled them up over his forearms.

"There," she pronounced. He might have objected, but she ran her fingers lightly over the corded muscles of his forearms and bit her lip. Surprised, he looked down at his arms, not quite seeing the appeal but willing to go along if it pleased her so much.

"The closest apparation point is several blocks from where we are going; are your shoes comfortable?"

She kicked the toe of her trainer against the ground and nodded. Satisfied, he pulled her against him and apparated them to Broad Street. They had to walk for several minutes before she saw the big black sign and trademark green shutters. "Blackwells?! We are going to Blackwells?"

"Largest bookshop in Europe," he nodded. She squealed with delight, running forward a few steps before dancing her way back to him and holding his hand tightly.

"I've been meaning to go for ages, but I just didn't have the time!"

"I know," he admitted. She'd written to him more than once lamenting her lack of time to visit the shop. It was yet another thing that had weighed on his conscience, something else deprived of her because of the rigorous schedule she had while trying to get back to him. Once inside, she immediately headed for the cavernous Norrington room, her eyes roving over ten thousand square feet of books for sale. "Go," he urged her with a wave of his hand. "Enjoy."

She grinned like a child in a sweet shop and delightedly examined the first row. He followed her at a small distance, watching as she pulled various tomes off the shelves, noting which ones she looked at most longingly before putting them back. He picked up a few that interested him, but mostly focused on her, subtly tapping the tip of his wand against the spine of the books she clearly wanted.

Every few minutes, she would turn and her eyes would seek him out, wanting to exclaim over a particularly interesting find, or show him a rare edition of a book. After several hours they took a break from browsing to have a cup of tea and sandwiches. When they finished their meal, he led her to the innocuous blue door in the far corner of the shop and knocked on it five times. Two quick, pause, one, pause, two quick. After a beat, it opened and they were ushered inside.

Hermione gaped. They were in an entirely different section of the shop, clearly designated for wizarding customers. There were rows of magic text books, isles marked with various warnings, sections of books that were chained to the shelves, even a corner with books behind glass that were too dangerous to touch. While she delved into the stacks, Severus went to the counter and tapped his wand onto a large rectangle of counter next to several other piles of books. At once, the books he'd marked from the muggle section of the store began to line themselves up. While they accumulated, he rejoined Hermione and continued to stealthily add to the pile.

By the time she was finished, Hermione had a small bundle of books tucked under her arm. She tried to muscle them back from Severus when he pulled them away from her at the register, but failed miserably against his strength. When he told the clerk to add the books from his stack to the ones she'd been carrying, Hermione didn't think anything of it. Even though he wasn't holding any, it was unlikely that a man as bibliogically minded as Snape wouldn't have bought any for himself. He wrote down the address he wanted them sent to and carried the bag with her selections in it out of the store for her.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I know," he replied. "I wanted to."

"I do have money."

 _Not enough for all the ones we bought today,_ he thought. "I know you do."

"Then why do you keep insisting on paying for everything?" She looped her arm through his as they strolled down the road toward a stretch of restaurants.

"Perhaps I enjoy taking care of you."

She looked up at him askance. "That's strong sentiment coming from you."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, no of course not. I'm just surprised."

"Hermione, there is no reason for me to even attempt to deny that I care for you. Despite my best efforts in the beginning, my affection for you is as transparent as glass. So what cause would I have to not simply indulge my whim to provide for you?"

Hermione took a full minute to revel in the way her name sounded on his lips. How decadent it was in his deep voice. Then she shook herself from her reverie. "I just don't want you spending too much on me. I get a stipend from the school for my meals and supplies, and my parents left a small trust for me-"

"Stop, there's no reason for you to share you financial information with me. Simply believe me when I say that I am well enough off to see to my own needs as well as spoil you on occasion." He didn't think that she would take well to him telling her that he could easily buy her a town house in Notting Hill.

"Then am I allowed to return the favour?"

"When you have a job that pays your bills and leaves some left over, yes," he evaded. By then he would likely already have married her and the point would be-

He stopped walking abruptly as if he'd slammed into a brick wall. In a way he had. _Married her_? When had that been decided? Hermione looked up at him, concerned at his sudden stop.

"Is everything alright?" She put her hand on his chest, eyes worried. He nodded stiffly and forced himself to continue walking. Of course that was where his thoughts would eventually lead him. After all, he wasn't the sort of man to court a woman aimlessly. Not that he'd ever really courted a woman. But someone like Hermione deserved a partner who had honorable intentions towards her. She'd already told him that she wanted kids. Holy shite, she wanted children. And since she wanted _him_ , it only stood to reason that she wanted _his_ children. Godrick's gobstones, what had he gotten himself into?

All through dinner, his mind circled back around to that one point. That somewhere along the line his subconscious had decided it was inevitable they would get married. Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. Married. He could picture Molly Weasley weeping openly in the first pew, her youngest male offspring glaring daggers at him while Harry Potter sat beside him. It was enough to make him cringe. But then his mind turned to the idea of Hermione in a white dress... Flowers in her hair, a bouquet in her hand, walking towards him with her sunshine on snow smile...

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione's voice broke into his thoughts. He blinked, bringing the present back into focus.

"Nothing," he said too quickly to be believed. "Just wondering. About the future," he added to lend a nugget of honesty to his obvious lie.

"Oh?" She popped another bite of dessert into her mouth and cocked her head to the side.

"You're taking, what, sixteen classes right now? And you need fifty six to graduate? So at this rate you could be done with your degree in two years."

"Maybe less than that if I can test out of a few of the subjects."

"Is that a possibility?"

"It might be. Muggle Studies should be no problem, of course, and I did take advanced Arithmancy at Hogwarts, so that could be one too. I'm not sure if transfiguration-"

Severus let out a sigh of relief as she listed the classes she might be able to pass without sitting through the course. It wasn't as if he could just tell her what he'd really been thinking. She wasn't even twenty. Despite the fact that she'd stayed true to their arrangement for six months- which was more than he'd expected in the beginning- there was no way she would be ready to settle down permanently as soon as she graduated. Besides, they hadn't even really begun to date. Didn't people normally court for a few _years_ before being wed? Still, his mind went back to seeing her in that white dress and he felt a stab of longing.

When he dropped her off at her room that night, he kissed her perhaps a little deeper, a little longer, a little sweeter than he'd intended. When they broke apart, he found he had her backed against her door with one leg hitched up around his waist. He framed her face in both of his hands and pressed one last kiss to her forehead before pulling her into his arms and hugging her tight.

"Sleep well." He released her and turned to walk away.

"You too," she murmured softly, her hand pressed to her lips as if to hold his kiss there. When he was out of sight, she let herself into her room and collapsed onto her bed. It had been a wonderful day and a fantastic- if confusing- night. What had he really been thinking when he'd been staring off at dinner? The look on his face had been... blissful. If she wasn't ninety nine percent sure it had been about her, she would have been jealous of whatever could put that look on him.

Whatever it was, she hoped that someday soon he would share it with her. Because she was long past the point where she could keep anything from him at all, including her heart.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning they shared breakfast in the deserted dining hall. When the staff started giving them pointed looks, they left so the place could be closed for the day.

"Well, where do you want to go now?"

"Is there anyplace you had in mind?"

Hermione shrugged. "Outside, maybe?" A clap of thunder punctuated her words, and when they looked out the next window, a steady drizzle of rain greeted them. "Alright, scrap that."

"The library? I was assuming you would have more studying to do this morning."

"Actually, even the library is closed on Sunday. I usually study in my room on Sundays. We could always go up there, if you don't mind the cramped quarters. No funny business, I promise."

He stared at her long and hard as if to discern whether she really meant it, then agreed. Inside her room, Hermione settled at the desk while Severus attempted to make himself comfortable on her woefully small bed. He ended up propped against her pillows, one leg stretched out and dangling off the bed, the other bent up with his book resting against his knee. If not for Hermione's enormous willpower, she would have gotten none of her studying done and instead would have stared at him the entire time.

It was hard to believe that only a short time ago, they meant so little to each other. Even a year before, the picture of him in her room as he was now would have been comical. Now, it seemed... right. Even if he was so cramped it looked uncomfortable. Even if he was out of place in the student dormitories.

"I doubt you'll find the proper way to care for a flubber worm written on my forehead," he said without looking up from his book.

"Maybe I should check a little bit lower," she suggested with a wink.

"That has been called many things, but never flubber worm, I assure you. You'll have to stick to your text book."

"Oh fine," she huffed with a laugh.

By lunch, the clouds had moved off and the sun was doing it's best to dry the ground. Hermione grabbed her spare blanket and suggested a picnic before she realized the kitchens were closed and there wasn't any place to get food on campus at the moment.

"I can procure us something if I can use the floo for a moment," Snape offered. Hermione showed him the one in the common room and in only a few minutes, a picnic basket popped into his lap. "Shall we, then?" He offered her his arm, which she took, and they headed out to the orchard behind the library.

The house elves- whom she assumed were responsible for their lunch- had packed them an abundance of food along with an excellent bottle of wine. Normally, Hermione would have frowned upon imbibing before going to class, but Snape would be leaving soon and she couldn't bring herself to be upset about a simple glass of wine.

When they were finished eating, while Hermione was packing away the last remnants of the meal, Severus pulled the little silver wrapped box from his pocket. It took a few minutes for Hermione to realize that he was holding it. When she did, he offered it to her, his face a mask of insincere indifference.

Slowly, Hermione untied the ribbon and pulled back the paper. When she lifted the lid off the white box inside, she gasped. Nestled on a bed of cotton was a beautiful opal pendant. She lifted it, watching the way the sun lit the flecks within the gem and made them seem to catch fire. The delicate chain twisted and she realized there was an engraving on the back. Out loud, she read, " _in_ _luce_ _nix._ " Then she turned back to him, puzzled. "What does it mean?"

He knew she was fluent enough in Latin to know the literal translation. But now that he was faced with it, he realized that he wasn't quite ready to explain to her just what 'sunshine on snow' meant to him. "I'll tell you someday," he promised. She nodded, not totally understanding him, but trusting him that he had his reasons. With trembling fingers she tried to put the necklace on but couldn't get the clasp to catch. Severus put his hands over hers and guided the tiny loop through. Then he picked up the pendant, turned it slightly to watch the sunlight dance across it, and laid it back on her chest.

"It's beautiful, Severus. Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome." They were silent for a moment while Hermione looked from him, back down to the opal. "I want you to know that I'm grateful." She searched his face, puzzled.

"Whatever for?"

"For seeing something within me that you feel is worth waiting for. For being willing to go through all this. For respecting my boundaries with making this work." He shook his head, thinking of all the ways it could have gone wrong. "It would have been far easier to simply give up on me and take your classes with no rush. Or to stay with those tutoring sessions and try to break my resolve. Eventually you would have, you know. And I would have hated myself for it. But you didn't do either of those things. You chose the more difficult route, because it would be better for _me_." He searched for the words, knowing that he was baring his soul to her and feeling terribly vulnerable because of it. "No one has ever done something harder for themselves just to make things easier for me before. The idea that you are willing to, especially for something so huge, is astounding to me. Each day that you keep true to your mad plan is a new surprise. I know that I am not an easy man to care for. And the time will come when you'll find that I am an even more difficult man to live with. But I can promise you that I will never take your efforts for granted. Your affection is a precious gift, Hermione, and I will always treat it as such."

"Oh, Severus." Hermione threw herself into his arms and kissed him. What else could she do? There weren't any words to say. She knew how much it had taken for him to confess that to her. He didn't often speak of his feelings, and such sweet sentiments came even less frequently. He had to be feeling terribly exposed, but he'd opened himself up to her because he wanted to make sure she understood just how much she meant to him. That, in itself, was a precious gift.

All too soon, the time for her afternoon class came upon them. Hermione stayed wrapped in Severus' arms as long as possible, loathe to let him go even one moment sooner than she had to. They kissed again, and Snape set her away from him gently.

"Try and take better care of yourself," he reminded her. She nodded.

"You, too."

"Of course."

"And you'll write me this evening?"

"I will."

"Thank you for coming. Thank you for... everything."

"You are most welcome. Goodbye, Hermione." He brushed the pad of his thumb down her cheek and then apparated away. Hermione stood for long moments staring at where he'd just been. Things had gone so well during his visit, so much better than she could have hoped. Somehow, it made all the waiting ahead of her seem even longer. She wouldn't be going back to an awkward greeting and uncomfortable silences, but to the tactile, caring man who'd just left.

Slowly she gathered her books and headed to her class, thinking of just what the future held for them.

/

* * *

 _Severus Tobius Snape, where did all these books come from?!_

 _H_

 _I would say Blackwell, but I get the feeling you already know that much._

 _S_

 _Don't be sarcastic with me! The delivery boy wouldn't take them back and when I called the shop they said they were non-returnable!_

 _H_

 _Indeed they are. I made sure of it._

 _S_

 _Why would you do such a ridiculous thing? This is far too extravagant. You've already given me an expensive gift. If you keep this up, I shall begin to feel like a kept woman!_

 _H_

 _I did it because it pleased me to do so. Just as it pleases me to give you anything else you desire._

 _You would have to be earning your presents with sexual favours to be a kept woman, and since we have never even technically had sex, I think you are in the clear._

 _Enjoy the books. Don't think of them as gifts, but as investments in your future._

 _S_

 _You haven't heard the last of this, Severus, I mean it. You are not to keep spending money on me at such a reckless pace. I forbid it._

 _H_

 _Forbid? Don't you know that forbidding a thing only makes it more appealing? Besides, what makes you think that I'll listen to your orders?_

 _S_

 _You will, or else I will start buying_ you _e_ _xpensive gifts and we will see how you handle it._

 _H_

 _You will do no such thing. What money you have is meant to go to providing you with food and school supplies. You're already getting far too little of the former, and I am certain there is hardly enough for the latter. You will not purchase anything for me, Hermione Jean Granger. Not a single orange pip. Do I make myself clear?_

 _S_

 _See? It's hard to be on the other end, isn't it?_

 _H_

 _The difference is that I will not be going without basic sustenance by buying things for you. You are not in a position to say the same._

 _S_

 _Well then you'll have to content yourself to inexpensive, home-made gifts until I am. Tit for tat, remember?_

 _H_

 _Fine. But the books are still non-returnable._

 _S_

 _I knew they would be. Thank you for them, Severus. They are wonderful. I'm so happy to have them._

 _H_

 _You are more than welcome._

 _S_


	12. Chapter 12

_I had the most wonderful dream about you last night._

 _H_

 _Oh? Do tell._

 _S_

 _You were showing me the books in your rooms, and then all of a sudden you told me you couldn't wait any longer and ripped my blouse open._

 _H_

 _Sounds appropriate._

 _S_

 _And we stumbled into your bedroom, fell onto the bed, and then suddenly all our clothes were gone- because things like that can happen in dreams- and you were whispering filthy, sexy words in my ear, and I begged you to give me what I needed._

 _H_

 _Merlin, that escalated quickly._

 _S_

 _Then you pushed inside of me and started to move, and I thought I was going to combust from the pleasure of it. I was writhing and calling your name, and I was so damn close to coming..._

 _H_

 _And then?_

 _S_

 _Then I woke up. The rudest awakening I've ever experienced._

 _H_

 _How... unsatisfying. Did you take the matter in hand once you'd woken?_

 _S_

 _Of course. It's a shame you weren't there._

 _H_

 _You're going to give me a stroke, woman. It can't be good for my blood pressure to be this high._

 _S_

 _Well maybe you could use some stress relief, too. What are you doing right now?_

 _H_

 _To be honest, I'm sitting at the head table in the Great Hall thanking every deity known to man that my teaching robes cover the massive erection I'm suddenly sporting._

 _S_

* * *

 _Well, I made it through my first semester in one piece. Now I can get a jump on the next one while everyone else is on the hols. If I keep a similar schedule, I should stay on track to graduating early._

 _H_

 _I am very proud of all you've accomplished so far, but consider taking a break. You've earned it. Perhaps you could enjoy the vacation? Take a few less classes next semester?_

 _S_

 _Not a chance. I'm on a roll now. Headmaster Turnbull's agreed to let me do my testing over the break. If I pass, I could test out of five or six more classes. And now that I've gotten the hang of this schedule, I can keep it going._

 _H_

 _At least promise me that you're taking care of yourself. You put too much focus on your classes and not enough on eating and sleeping._

 _S_

 _I promise. Besides, it's impossible for me_ not _to get enough to eat with all the food you keep sending me. That treacle tart was absolutely delicious, by the way. If you keep this up, I'll return to you morbidly obese. People will think I'm American._

 _H_

 _Perish the thought. With the way you run yourself into the ground, I'll be lucky if I can put a single pound of extra weight on you. Which is a shame, because I do so admire your curves._

 _S_

 _Well there is a reason to put on weight if ever I heard one... Send another treacle tart and I'll see what I can do._

 _H_

* * *

 _I wish I could make it to Hogwarts for the graduation ceremony! It would be so wonderful to see the returning students as well as the seventh years go through the procession. If I thought there was any way I could get through these finals after taking the weekend off, I would already be there..._

 _H_

 _After a while, all the graduation ceremonies tend to blend together. You are not missing much. Though perhaps your friend Miss Lovegood will make an interesting scene. She seems to have some particular opinions about the nargles festering in the Great Hall this time of year._

 _S_

 _I'm not in the least bit surprised. Luna can be more insightful than anyone I've ever known on many subjects, but on others she boggles the mind with her oddities. I'm actually more shocked that you managed to tutor her all these months without going mad._

 _H_

 _Trust me, there were times when I thought I was going to lose the plot if she put one more flower in my hair or hid one more plant in the dungeons. Thankfully for everyone involved, I managed not to kill her or myself, and now my teaching days are firmly behind me._

 _S_

* * *

 _Do you really want to quit teaching all together? I know the job was likely not your first pick, but you honestly are a very talented teacher._

 _H_

 _It would have been my_ last _pick, had the choice been mine. Teaching while my past was shrouded in mystery was hard enough. Having students who know every skeleton in my closet would be unbearable. It was nearly impossible teaching the returning seventh years who knew of my past._

 _Besides, having to instruct idiotic children who- with few exceptions- have no desire to learn, long ago drove out any pleasure I might have taken in the job._

 _S_

 _What about teaching at a university? You could work with high level students who would choose to take your course. I know of many potions majors who would jump at the chance to learn from you._

 _H_

 _Perhaps it is something I would give some thought to in the future. For now, I shall be quite glad to retire from the public eye and enjoy my first taste of true freedom in- well... ever._

 _S_

 _I suppose I can't blame you for that. Enjoy your freedom. Relax and fill your time however_ you _see fit. I'll admit that the idea of having exclusive monopoly of your time when I graduate appeals to me._

 _H_

* * *

 _I can't believe it's been a year since you left Hogwarts._

 _S_

 _What I can't believe is that it's been more than six months since I saw you last. I keep wishing I were taking less classes so that I would have more time for visits, but reminding myself that keeping up this class load is what will bring me back to you sooner._

 _H_

 _Have you ever resented me wanting you to have graduated before we continue on into any kind of relationship?_

 _S_

 _There have been times where I_ wanted _to resent it. Where I felt it was unfair, or too severe. But in the end, I have always respected your wishes in the matter. There's no way for me to know how I would feel were our situations reversed. Maybe I would be as adamant as you are about it._

 _And now that we have spent a year apart, I have learned to appreciate what is between us all the more. I truly believe that I am closer to you now than I would have been after five years of face to face dating. So perhaps this has been for the best for us._

 _H_

 _I hope you are right,_ femina demens _. Otherwise I have put us both through a tremendous amount of unnecessary pain._

 _S_

* * *

 _Are you in your room?_

 _H_

 _Yes, why?_

 _S_

 _I want to try something. But you'll need to keep an open mind._

 _H_

 _I can only promise to attempt that._

 _S_

 _Alright. Do you have a book or something hard you can write on? Get it and grab the pen I gave you for Christmas. You'd only spill an ink pot on the bed._

 _H_

 _On the_ bed _? Whyever would I be writing in bed?_

 _S_

 _Just get your things and get into bed and I'll explain. Oh, and get naked._

 _H_

 _Suddenly I don't like where this is going._

 _S_

 _Just do it. For me?_

 _H_

 _What an unfair advantage._

 _Alright, I have done as you requested._

 _S_

 _You're all the way naked?_

 _H_

 _Yes._

 _S_

 _No you're not. Take off your dressing gown._

 _H_

 _Do you have some sort of spying device in my room?!_

 _S_

 _No, I just know you very well. Ditch the robe._

 _H_

 _Fine. I am officially naked, writing with a muggle pen, in my bed. Happy?_

 _S_

 _Very. And hopefully you will be too, soon._

 _Alright, can you guess what I'd doing?_

 _H_

 _Oh..._

 _Now that you put it like that, I can only assume that you are also in bed, naked, with a muggle pen. Perhaps this won't be so terrible after all._

 _S_

 _Right on all counts except the muggle pen. I'm actually using a dictation quill so that I have_ _ **both**_ _hands free._

 _H_

 _That could have it's advantages._

 _S_

 _Oh, it does. In fact, I'm taking advantage of it right now. I love feeling my body. I have always enjoyed the texture of my skin beneath my fingertips. If I cup the weight of my breasts just right, I can imagine that_ you _are the one squeezing them. Rubbing them. Pinching the tips._

 _H_

 _What else can you imagine me doing?_

 _S_

 _Moving lower, brushing the inside of my thighs with the back of your knuckles. Maybe lifting one of my knees to give you better access. Then stroking ever so softly over my sex. My own fingers don't have the callouses that yours do, though._

 _H_

 _Right now, you are not the only one getting stroked._

 _S_

 _Thinking about you doing that gets me excited. If you were here, you'd be able to feel the dampness against your hand. Maybe you'd use some of that slickness to push a finger inside me, or rub my clit._

 _H_

 _Both._

 _S_

 _I like to be stroked in slow little circles until I'm close, and then very quickly up and down. But you'd probably tease me, wouldn't you? Get me close and then back off. Keep me on edge until I was begging you to fuck me._

 _H_

 _Until you were so wild with abandon that you told me every dirty thing you wanted me to do to you._

 _S_

 _And then you'd reward me by slowly pushing your cock inside of me until we were both moaning and panting, desperate for more. My own fingers are a poor substitute for the way you would stretch me. The way you would feel filling me up. Thrusting in and out of me._

 _H_

 _I would alternate between stroking your clit and rolling your nipples between my fingers, keeping you from getting too close. Do it now, Hermione. Don't come yet._

 _S_

 _You're such a tease. I'm so worked up, so excited. My hips are lifting, my legs jerking. I want so badly to be able to come. Tell me to stroke myself again, Severus. Please. I need more._

 _H_

 _Do it. Stroke your clit and thrust your fingers inside yourself until you come screaming my name. Think about me moving over you, slamming my cock into you until I shuddered and spent myself inside you._

 _S_

 _ **Severus!**_

 _H_

 _Gods, Hermione... I cannot believe that I just climaxed from writing about sex with you._

 _S_

 _You're not the only one. That was amazing. I've never enjoyed pleasuring myself so much before._

 _H_

 _It is usually not something I indulge in, but I know what you mean._

 _S_

 _Perhaps you'd be willing to do this again sometime?_

 _H_

 _I think that is a safe assumption to make._

 _S_

* * *

 _Have you considered my suggestion?_

 _H_

 _You will have to specify which suggestion you mean, though I am sure that whatever it is, I have._

 _S_

 _About you writing. Just think about how much the world would improve from an entire generation of witches and wizards learning out of a potions text book that you wrote. Harry used that old book of yours for only one year and it made him an immeasurably better brewer._

 _Besides, you wouldn't have to set foot in a class room, and you could be your own boss. No one to answer to, no annoying co-workers. I really think it would be great for you._

 _H_

 _Ah yes,_ that _suggestion. You will be pleased to know that I have, in fact, given it some thought. I do agree that the current potions text books are woefully inadequate, but I cannot say I am necessarily qualified to write one of my own. Potion Master though I may be, author I am not._

 _S_

 _I beg to differ. We have been writing back and forth for nearly a year and a half, and I can assure you that you are a more than adequate author. And if the way you helped explain the Potion Copyright and Availability Act of 1897 was any indication, you would be just as good at writing instructionally as you are recreationally._

 _H_

 _You over estimate my abilities. However, I might consider answering one of the many owls from Merge Books and see about consulting on a rewriting of Advanced Potion-Making. We shall see how things go from there._

 _S_

* * *

 _It's going to be close, but if I can pass all the courses I've been taking this semester and test out of the Dangerous and Exotic Magical Creatures class- I'll have to thank Hagrid for that!- then I'll be able to graduate with my Master in Magical Government and my Mage in Magical Creatures at the end of the semester!_

 _H_

 _Really? I thought you were going to require one more semester at least. Do you truly think you could be done so soon?_

 _S_

 _Unless I have a drastic drop in my marks in the next month, or unless I can't pass the test for the DEMC course, then I can make it happen. In less than thirty days I could be back._

 _H_

 _That would be... marvelous. Where will you want to go? Have you already received job offers, or will you want some time off?_

 _S_

 _I suppose that will depend a lot on you._

 _H_

 _On me?_

 _S_

 _Well we have had an unconventional courtship to say the least._

 _H_

 _Granted._

 _S_

 _And normally couples who have been together as long as we have would start thinking of things... big things... by now. But we haven't spent more than a few days together in person throughout this whole time, so we can't really go off off of normal standards._

 _H_

 _I suppose you are right. Of course I would understand if you want to have an apartment of your own when you get back. After all, it wouldn't be fair of me to expect you to move right in with me. Aside from via this parchment you hardly know me._

 _S_

 _Hardly know you? That's not true at all. I know you inside and out. I know that you are meticulous and methodical. I know you're going to drive me batty with how long it takes you to prepare tea, just like I know I'm going to annoy you by not arranging the cupboards properly. I don't_ want _an apartment of my own, I want to be with you. But I can't expect you to be happy spending all day every day with me when you're used to living on your own. Plus, we've never really talked about living together. For all I know, you're against the idea- though I think from what I've gleaned that's not the case, thankfully. I'm trying to be as realistic as I can about this and not rush you into something you're not ready for._

 _H_

 _Rush me? Yes, I'm set in my ways, and yes, you're right about the tea and cupboards. I'm sure there will be a million other little things that we will have to adjust to. But I've been longing to have you in my arms and in my home almost since the moment you left. If you would deign to share my home with me, you'll be lucky if I let you go long enough for you to eventually pursue your career. Not because I don't want what's best for you, or that I don't think you will reshape the very foundations of Wizarding law, but because I think once I have you I won't want to lose one more moment with you._

 _S_

 _I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see those words. I've been so worried you would think it childish of me to want so much so quickly._

 _H_

 _You are far from childish, Hermione. You have been for a long time. I've been foolish not to accept that fact. I have known for a while now that what I felt for you, what I hoped would happen between us, is permanent and life changing. I still wake up some mornings and wonder what possesses a woman like you to want a man like me, but I'm past caring why._

 _S_

 _I feel the same. Then perhaps, when I get my tests back next month, you will come pick me up? I'll have to come back at the end of the year for the ceremony, but until then..._

 _H_

 _Tell me the day and no power on this earth could keep me away._

 _S_

* * *

 _I've been thinking, and we should definitely keep our Gringotts vaults separate. While I appreciate the sentiment of your offer, we both know that you have more money than me. What I could contribute to our account would be very modest, and I don't want to feel as if I'm taking advantage of you. Especially if I take off a few months before I take a job. It's not fair for you to have to pay my way._

 _H_

 _Hermione, please be sensible about this. Yes, I am more adequately equipped to provide for us than you right now. But that does not mean that you would be taking advantage of me by letting me do so. You have spent the last year and a half dedicating nearly every waking moment to your studies, to completing your education, for_ _ **my**_ _sake. You have worn yourself to the bone, forsaken friends and many opportunities, all for me. Let me repay some of that hard work. Let me take care of you for a little while._

 _Besides, how would we manage a single household on two budgets? Would we each have our own half of the refrigerator? Divide up the electric bill based on who kept the lights on more? If one of us runs out of lavatory paper, will we just have to go without until we buy more, or are we allowed to use each others?_

 _S_

 _You are being ridiculous to try and make your point. We would divide the utilities equally and split the grocery bill as realistically as possible. It wouldn't be_ _ **your**_ _lavatory paper and_ _ **my**_ _lavatory paper, it would be a roll we each paid for half of._

 _H_

 _What if I like_ Petit Lutin _and you can't afford it? Do I go without, or are you forced to over-spend?_

 _S_

 _Somehow, I have a hard time seeing you choosing tissue covered in cute critters and French quotes to wipe your arse with . So I assume this situation is hypothetical._

 _H_

 _Assume whatever you like._

 _S_

 _Well then in that case, you shouldn't have to go without, so you would get what you like and I would get something much more practical, and we would know, as rational adults, that we are free to use one another's in case of emergency._

 _H_

 _And what about the expensive marmalade I eat, or the fancy restaurants I want to take you to? Must everything come down to what you can and cannot afford? It would be so much simpler if you were willing to let me share my lifestyle with you. Contribute what you can, but allow me to cover the rest and do not think in terms of 'yours' and 'mine' but ours._

 _After all, perhaps in another sixty years I will have squandered my wealth and be unable to work any longer. Will you want me to scrimp and scrounge to afford my own prune juice? Or when the shoe is on the other foot will you be more understanding of my position?_

 _S_

 _Impossible man. Again you resort to ridiculous extremes to make your point. You know damn well that were you ever to need care, I would provide you with everything within my power to give._

 _I will give the matter more thought. If, and that is a big if, I were to agree, there would be major caveats about what extravagances you are allowed to thrust upon me. I refuse to be a burden to you. And I refuse to take advantage of your generosity._

 _H_

 _You will never be a burden to me. It will ease my mind much more to know that I can provide for you without you worrying about the bill. You know that I am going to win this battle anyways, so you might as well make your addendums and concede with grace._

 _S_

 ** _A/N: Ok, so I've gotten quite a few complaints about my "obese American" comment. Let me just say that I mean no offense to anyone specific or in general. I, myself, am a rather curvy American. The comment is meant to be a joke about stereotypes, and shouldn't be taken seriously, any more than the idea that Hermione (who is far underweight at this point in the story) would become obese from a few extra sweets is serious._**


	13. Chapter 13

_I cannot believe in two more days I will have graduated from university, be living in your house, and spend my first night in your bed._

 _H_

 _I can assure you than I am looking forward to that very much indeed. My only concern is that we have both been looking forward to the 'bed' part so much that there is no way expectation can live up to reality. You are bound to be disappointed if you except much more from me than happened at our first attempt at coupling._

 _S_

 _If that's the case then I will be thoroughly satisfied indeed. After all, I orgasmed rather spectacularly during our first encounter, if you will recall. Besides, we know so much more about each other now than we did then. Especially about what we like sexually. Surely that will only increase our compatibility._

 _H_

 _Or, I will be so overwhelmed with lust at the sight of you naked that I will come immediately and ruin the night._

 _S_

 _As incredibly flattering as I find that prospect, I think it is doubtful. However, if that_ _ **is**_ _the case, then I will just have to do what I can to get you going for another round. And I can assure you, I will be quite tenacious._

 _H_

 _Well then, I leave myself in your capable hands. Literally._

 _S_

The last morning of the semester dawned with a frosty chill in the air. The students hardly felt it, though. Most were excited to be going home for the hols, and the rest were just looking forward to the break from classes. Hermione had been up since before the sun, beaming with delight that she was finally graduating and going home to the man she loved.

Because she did love him. It would have been foolish to try and deny it, and Hermione Granger was no fool. How could she not love him? He cared for her, respected her, encouraged her, protected her, and perhaps more than anything else, he had become _home_ to her. Not since the loss of her parents had she felt so truly secure. So completely accepted. Severus provided that for her. He knew her better than anyone else. All her secrets, her fears, her ambitions, her deepest longings. And still, he wanted to spend his life with her.

No, they hadn't formally spoken of forever. Whenever the subject began to broach the long term, he shied away from it. But Hermione had no doubts. Not just because she knew him to be too honorable to trifle with her affections, but also because there were times, when he didn't realize what he was saying, that he alluded to them growing old together. When she wondered what job she could get that would let them stay in the same house, he simply told her to do whatever was best for her and not worry about him. But in the next conversation when she would mention aching knees from all the stairs her daily routine entailed, he would sarcastically complain about all the ointments he would likely have to rub on her joints when she was grey haired and cranky. If she said something about her desire for children, he would dismiss it as something for her to worry about in the future. But then they would argue about the merits of home education vs Ministry run programs for preHogwarts learning and he would make her swear that no child of theirs would attend 'one of those ill-equipped disease centers'.

Despite what she could only assume were his intentions not to rush her decisions about her future or make her feel crowded, his desires slipped through to her so clearly. And she couldn't be happier about them. She might have feared, back when she had first left for university, that they were making a mistake to pin their futures on each other when they had so little physical experience with one another. But each day she had spent apart from him, her determination and her conviction had grown. Never had she been more certain that he was the man for her. Not just for now, but for always. The only concern she had was how to convince him that she was ready to make that decision.

When eight o'clock finally came, Hermione picked her sign off sheet from her desk and began making her rounds to all her professors. It was more formality than anything, but she needed signatures from each of them to prove she had no outstanding assignments or projects left before she could be officially declared ready to graduate. After two hours, several hugs, and countless well wishes, Hermione made her way to Headmaster Turnbull's office. He looked over the completed parchment, nodded his acknowledgment of it, and handed her the temporary certificate stating her new qualifications.

"You'll get your formal diploma at the graduation ceremony in the spring," he added. Hermione grinned and nodded, not looking up from the certificate. She'd done it. And in less time than even _she_ had thought possible. Turnbull cleared his throat and she finally glanced up. He was straightening the buttons on his robe, trying to look casual. "I know that you have your eye on the Ministry or even the International Tribunal, but if you ever decide to take a lowly teaching position, I, ah, I'm sure we could find a spot for you here. After all, it's not ever day one of our students completes a four year program in less than a year and a half. All while keeping her grades up to boot. It's quite exceptional, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Headmaster Turnbull. I do love Oxford. If I ever look into teaching, after Hogwarts, this would be my preference."

"Good, good," he put his glasses back on and shooed her toward the door. "Off with you, then. Lots to do, both of us, I'm sure." Hermione grinned and nearly skipped from the office. Now all she had to do was wait for Severus to arrive.

But when she reached her room, she realized no waiting would be needed. He was standing outside her door, looking at the hustle and bustle of students around him with his trademark scowl firmly in place. As soon as he caught sight of her, it fell away and the smile she had come to know and love took its place. Hermione practically danced her way into his arms.

"I'm done! I graduated, it's all filed and sealed!"

Severus lifted her and spun her around, then kissed her hard and fast. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, not caring that several students had stopped to gape at them.

"Thank you." She blushed a little, certain she would never tire of his praise. "I have everything all packed. All we need to do is get it to your house."

"Our house," he corrected.

"Right."

In the tiny dorm, all of Hermione's things were piled either in, or atop, her trunk. Severus snapped his fingers and two house elves appeared, grabbed either end of the trunk, and then disappeared with it. Hermione gasped. "You have house elves?"

"Of course." Severus lifted one dark brow. "Who did you think was delivering food to you all this time?"

"Well, house elves, yes... But I assumed they were from the school!"

"That would be a gross misappropriation of school resources, Miss Granger. I'm surprised you would think such a thing of me." He feigned outrage.

"I guess I never thought of it that way..."

"Indeed. It has always been one of my three house elves that brought you treats."

"One of _three_?"

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it?" He narrowed his eyes at her a little. "I've promised all of them that you won't try and sneak them clothes. They were rather terrified when they learned you would be coming to live in the house."

"Of course not. Not unless they want them, that is. _Three_? I thought they served families for generations. Surely your family didn't have-"

"No, no, they have only come to my employ recently. I guess you could say I inherited them."

"Inherited? From who?"

Severus sighed, certain she could guess if she took the time to put two and two together. How she would react to the news, however, he was less certain about.

"Not Lucius Malfoy, surely."

"Yes, from Lucius."

"Severus! He was awful to his house elves! If you only knew how he'd treated Dobby-"

"Do me the honor of giving me more credit than that, Hermione. I know how Lucius treated his inferiors- as he saw them- and they were all given the option of taking their freedom when their loyalties were transferred to me. You know the household broke up after Lucius's death, and Narcissa had no need for so many servants. She was certainly less harsh on them than Lucius was, but rest assured they are still in far better care in their current situation."

"I suppose I can judge that for myself when we get there," Hermione admitted grudgingly.

"I have no doubt that you will." Severus gave her an indulgent smile and offered his arm to her. When she took it, they disapparated from the dorm.

They landed with a soft thump and Hermione clutched Severus' jacket for a moment until she had her equilibrium back. Then she looked around. Her first reaction was shock. Then disbelief. She looked to Severus to make sure he hadn't apparated them to the wrong house. When he only watched her mildly, she turned and once more gaped at her surroundings. She was standing in the foyer of a spacious and tastefully decorated home. Ahead of her, a glossy mahogany stair case curved up towards the second floor. To her left opened to a bright living room with vaulted ceilings. To the left was a hall that she could hear telltale sounds of cooking from.

"I had no idea," she said softly.

"Did you think I would be bringing you back to a dungeon?" There was amusement in his voice, rather than hurt. Hermione let the laughter she had been holding back slip out.

"Actually, yes! Or very nearly. I know you like clean, open spaces, but you seemed so comfortable in your quarters at the school that I just assumed-"

"To be fair to your assumptions, I only moved in here after leaving the school. Before then, I had no need of another house. The shack at Spinners End served me sufficiently when the need arose, and the rest of my time was spent at Hogwarts. It wasn't until I thought-" he stopped, suddenly somewhat abashed at how much consideration for _her_ had gone into his search for a home so early on in their relationship. He cleared his throat and studied the tapestry hanging on the wall. "Narcissa actually helped me pick it out. I thought- she thought that it would be a better choice if I might be sharing it with someone one day."

"Narcissa?" The curl of delight that had started to form in her belly suddenly soured.

"She has excellent taste."

"I'm sure," Hermione demurred somewhat stiffly. Severus noticed the chill in her mood but dismissed it. She'd warned him more than once she was possessive. It actually made him feel a little... nice, to have someone want him so exclusively that the idea of him spending time with another woman bothered her. Besides, in time, she would come to realize that even the slightest chance of anything happening between him and Narcissa had died long ago.

As Severus began showing her around the house, Hermione's thoughts couldn't stay occupied with another woman. She was too busy admiring the house that would now be her home. It was spacious and grand without being pretentious or cold. She noticed that several of the fixtures were items she'd shown preference to at one point or another during the year and a half she'd been gone. Once again, she was reminded of the fact that she wasn't the only one planning for them to spend their lives together.

The last room they looked in was the bedroom. Hermione couldn't help but feel completely, utterly, and totally loved as soon as she stepped inside. Narcissa might have helped with other décor choices, but in this room, it was obvious that Severus had chosen every piece carefully, and with Hermione foremost in mind. It was warm and welcoming. Her trunk had already been unpacked, her clothes hanging in the wardrobe. A shelf of her favorite books hung on the wall. On the bed was the quilt that her grandmother had made her. The curtains were a crimson damask nearly identical to the ones she had loved so much in the Gryffindor dormitory at Hogwarts.

Overwhelmed, Hermione turned to Severus with tears pricking her eyes. Before he had a chance to worry they were tears of anything but happiness, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him desperately. When he returned the kiss with equal ardor, she felt a giddy rush start in her stomach and race to her toes. There wasn't any reason for them to stop, now. Any reason he'd had for them to wait was now a thing of the past. She moved her arms from his shoulders to fumble at the tie holding her dress closed.

"Wait, wait. Let me do that." Severus pushed her hands out of the way and ignored her huff of impatience. "I don't want to rush, Hermione. I know we have been waiting so long. But I want to savor you. You are a gift I've been waiting more than a year to unwrap. Don't deny me that pleasure just when my waiting is finally done."

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. How could she resist him when he put it like that? His nimble fingers pulled the ties of her dress loose. They fluttered apart, letting her dress free. He slid his hands beneath the fabric and pushed it over her shoulders. Slowly, the dress slid over her skin until it pooled on the floor. Severus looked her over from head to toe. The sound that escaped his throat was pure sensual delight. Hermione, who had never seen herself as particularly beautiful, suddenly felt powerfully feminine. For a moment, she could see what he saw. The way she looked through _his_ eyes. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling.

Severus began kissing down her neck. He pressed his lips to her shoulders, her arms, down her chest and stomach until he was on his knees before her. After putting one of her hands on his shoulder to steady her, he lifted her foot slightly and kissed the inside of her thigh. She shivered, her other hand clutching in his hair against the sensations coursing through her. When he'd kissed his way down to the insole of her foot, he switched sides and gave her other leg the same treatment. "I never want to forget a single moment of this. I want to etch the sight of you, the feel of you, the taste of you, on my mind forever." He spoke the words with his arms wrapped around her waist, his cheek resting against her stomach.

"Let me kiss you," she whispered past the knot of emotion in her throat. He rose to his feet and pressed his lips to hers, not stopping her when she pushed his jacket off his shoulders. His waistcoat followed it to the floor, and then his shirt. She took in the sight of his bare skin hungrily, suddenly understanding what he'd meant about savoring. The urgency in her was rising, but she wanted to take her time exploring him. She wanted to learn the texture of his skin, enjoy the feel of his body pressing against hers. When she started unfastening the placket of his trousers, he toed off his boots and socks. Standing in only his pants, he turned her around and nuzzled the back of her neck. The sensation sent chills along her skin. He bit lightly at the juncture where her throat met her shoulder as he unfastened her bra. She gasped, as much at the delicious pain of his teeth as at the sudden exposure of her breasts to the air. As his tongue swept along the love bite and he kissed away the sting, his hands rose up to cup her breasts. The feel of his calloused fingers caressing her, cupping the weight of them and then brushing over her nipple, made her surrender her weight against him before she could collapse to the floor. She lifted one hand behind her to tangle her fingers into his hair. Her head tipped to the side to give him better access to her throat as he dipped down to slide her panties over her hips. Then his fingers were brushing softly against the sensitive skin at the apex of her thighs.

All thoughts of savoring and memorizing fled her mind. Suddenly she wanted him, all of him. Over her, inside her, moving his body with hers until neither of them could think or breathe. She turned, pushed his pants down, and tugged him along with her until the back of her knees hit the bed and they tumbled down onto it. Hermione took a moment to enjoy the feel of her hands stroking over the muscles of his back before clutching at his hips and urging him closer to her. As her legs fell open he settled between her thighs as if he'd been made to fit there.

 _Don't come don't come don't come_ , was the mantra Severus kept repeating in his mind as he gritted his teeth against the overwhelming feel of her. His every nerve ending seemed on fire, burning with the pleasure of her touch. He kissed her deeply, accepting her urging and fitting the tip of his cock against her core and pushing. They both gasped, sharing breath as their bodies joined. Hermione's legs wrapped around his waist and she lifted her hips, sheathing herself onto him completely. Sweat broke out over Severus' skin and he felt her trembling beneath him. She was gripping him tightly, inner walls fluttering against him maddeningly.

"Severus," she whispered breathlessly. Their eyes met, love and lust and awe mirrored in each other's gazes. What little control he'd had, deserted him. He pulled back and thrust forward, feeling the pleasure gather and multiply as he raced more quickly than he wanted, towards completion. Determined to see her fall into the abyss with him, he slipped his hand between them and stroked her the way he knew she liked, slow circles at first, then as her cries grew louder and her body tensed, rubbing quickly up and down. "Severus- I- I-"

"Yes," he urged her, nearly overwhelmed with his own need. "Come for me, Hermione." She screamed and her body bowed off the bed. Severus heard a cry of pleasure escape from his own throat as he thrust into her fast and hard, letting himself plunder her until the sensations overcame him. Her hips bucked up to his, her body squeezing him tightly. He continued to thrust softly against her until they both relaxed and started to catch their breath.

"Well," Hermione chuckled as she stretched languidly, "it seems your fear that our expectations would outmatch our ability was absolutely groundless."

"Thank Merlin." He shifted to his side and kissed her shoulder tenderly. "Though to be completely honest, it as a near thing."

"I wouldn't have blamed you."

"Yes, you did assure me that I could trust you to _handle_ the situation if that was the case."

"Indeed I did. In fact, I think I'm not nearly done for the day. Why don't I get things going for us again?"

"By all means," he rolled to his back and gestured for her to have at him. "I am completely at your disposal."


	14. Chapter 14

They spent the rest of the day in bed together. The house elves left a lunch tray discretely by the bed and they ate their meals off of each other when hunger struck. By morning they knew each other as well physically as they did emotionally. They both knew they would be sore for a week at least, but neither of them could be bothered to care.

They spent days cooped up together in domestic bliss. Despite the house elve's outraged shock, Hermione encroached upon their territory to cook when the mood took her. Severus took pride in showing her the garden he'd cultivated behind the house where he grew many of his own potion ingredients. They 'christened' every available surface in the house with their enthusiastic love making, delighting in the newfound ability to touch each other, hold each other, whenever they wanted. They acted out every scenario they'd written about to each other and a few that they hadn't. Hermione fell in absolute, utter love with having her very own library and it became her favorite room of the house, after their bedroom.

She was walking through the door of it to fetch a book for herself and calling back to Severus to see if he wanted her to grab one for him as well, when a woman emerged from the fireplace. Hermione gasped, clutching the neckline of the overly large shirt she'd slipped on. She realized in horror that she'd left her wand on the bedside table. The initial panic faded into humiliation as she realized that it wasn't a hostile intruder, but Narcissa Malfoy who stood in the library hearth, not a speck of soot on her beautifully tailored dress despite having come through the floo. Hermione felt very much like a ragamuffin standing in nothing but Severus' pilfered shirt, her hair disheveled from a very recent and very vigorous bout of sex.

"Oh, dear me. Have I come at a bad time?" Narcissa lifted one immaculately manicured hand to her lips to hide the faint smile that played there.

"Did you hear me love? I was thinking the-" Severus stopped short in the doorway. "Narcissa!" He had the intense urge to cover himself, but with only two hands, there was no chance of hiding every inch of pale skin from her somewhat amused eyes. He inched behind Hermione and hoped neither woman noticed. Of course, they both noticed immediately.

"Why don't I give you two a moment?" Narcissa offered magnanimously. Hermione wanted to hiss in outrage. Why did she feel as if she'd been caught doing something naughty in someone else's house? This was her home, damnit! Narcissa had intruded into _Hermione's_ library. Hermione had nothing to be ashamed of. Narcissa should be the one feeling uncomfortable, not her.

"Yes, please. Why don't you ring for the elves to bring tea while you wait?" Severus attempted to compose himself as much as he could standing in nothing but very short, pink robe. Despite the humiliation, he thanked his lucky stars the elves had complained about their constant nudity several days before, or he would likely have gone in wearing nothing but a smile and half an erection.

"Sounds delightful," Narcissa smiled at them as they backed from the room and stumbled over each other in their haste to get to the bedroom.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Hermione asked as soon as the door was closed.

"How should I know?" Severus asked, nearly zipping very important bits in his trousers and going a little cross eyed at the close call.

"You didn't invite her?"

"Of course not. Do you think I would have been wearing _your_ dressing gown if I'd know she was coming?"

"So she's in the habit of showing up to your house unannounced?" Hermione pulled on jeans and a sweater, feeling mulish and more than a little jealous.

"Not all the time, but she has been known to-" He saw the look of pure menace that crossed Hermione's face and knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Now wait just a minute. I don't mean that she just comes over whenever she wants. And she has certainly never walked in on me in such a state of undress before. She's an old friend, Hermione. Nothing more."

"An old friend who just waltzes through your floo any time she wants, apparently. And I know that it's warded, so she has to be keyed into it."

"Yes, she is. Just as I'm sure Potter and Weasley were keyed into yours at the university."

"That's not the same!"

Severus sighed in exasperation. "How is it not the same? At least I've never fucked Narcissa, which is more than I can say for at least half of that bumbling duo." His temper started to flare.

"At _least_ half? Are you trying to implicate that I slept with Harry?"

"You know that's not what I meant," he snapped back. "And if you weren't being so confrontational right know you'd know better than that."

"Of course I'm feeling confrontational! I just walked into _my_ library looking like a streetwalker, to find a woman who's obviously no stranger to visiting _my_ boyfriend, and of bloody course _she_ looks like she just stepped off the cover of Witch Weekly!" Hermione tried to pull her hair back but yanked so hard that the elastic broke. The hard end of it struck her hand sharply. She pulled it out and looked at the small red welt feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

Severus fought back the laugh that threatened to escape. She just looked so betrayed by the hair tie. When he was composed, his irritation had dissipated and he understood why she felt so distressed. If the situation had been reversed, he imagined he would have handled it worse. "Hermione," he crossed the room to pull her into his arms. She resisted at first, not sure she was ready to be comforted. "Love, look at me." Her reticence melted away and she let him hold her, tipping her chin up to look at him. "Narcissa is an old friend, and nothing more."

" _Old_ friend," Hermione agreed grumblingly. Severus chose not to acknowledge the less than gracious comment.

"I understand why her showing up unannounced upset you. I can assure you that I am not very happy with it, either. I'll ask her to owl ahead next time. But don't for one moment think that you have anything to worry about from her. I'll not deny that she's beautiful, but compared to you she's barely even noticeable to me."

"Even in nothing but your shirt?"

" _Especially_ in one of my shirts. You know how alluring I find that look."

"But my hair-"

"Looks like I spent the morning very thoroughly enjoying every inch of your body. I'm rather proud of this hairstyle."

"Fine, fine, you've placated me enough." She gave him a somewhat tremulous smile. Severus mended the hair tie with a touch of his wand and carefully pulled her hair up with it.

"Good. Because I'd hate to have you go in there spitting fire. Narcissa is all ice. I imagine the two of you would clash spectacularly."

"Fire melts ice," Hermione reminded him as they walked back to the library.

"I know, love." Severus chuckled.

Narcissa was sipping her tea when they walked back in, looking just as posh and perfect as she had when they left. "I do apologize for dropping by unannounced," she set down her tea and crossed her ankles smoothly. "Of course if I knew I would find the two of you _in flagrante delicto_ I would have owled first."

"Perhaps the best course of action from now on," Severus supplied as he poured a cup of tea for Hermione and then one for himself.

"Certainly. It seems I've forgotten what it's like to be young and in love. Though I don't recall a time where Lucius and I ever stayed indecent until two in the afternoon. It must be quite the affair the two of you are having."

"It is," Hermione said stiffly.

"How titillating," Narcissa smiled and let out a little sigh. "I do believe I am envious."

"I'm sure whoever is keeping you company nowadays is doing an adequate job." Severus watched the two women size each other up and wished the tea were a bit stronger. This could go south very quickly.

"Of course, Severus. If he wasn't, I'd have already found one to take his place. You know I would have offered you the post, but I don't like to encroach on another woman's territory."

Severus thought steam would start coming out of Hermione's ears at any moment. He knew she was already seeing red, and Narcissa seemed determined to stir her up. "That was never an option for us," he grated out. Why was she being so overt in her attempts to anger Hermione?

"And obviously it never will be," Hermione added.

"Obviously," Narcissa agreed. "Severus, would you be a dear and find me that candelabra I lent you last month?"

"Candelabra? You've never lent me-"

"Why don't you look just to make sure?" Hermione suggested tightly, her eyes never leaving Narcissa's.

"Am I being thrown out of my own library?"

"You always were a clever lad, Severus." Narcissa gave him a saccharine smile. Severus looked between the women. Hermione had unconsciously pushed up her sleeves and tightened her pony tale. He'd seen her do that when faced with a particularly difficult Arithmancy problem. He'd also seen her do it before going into battle with the intent to kill. He hesitated, then decided to let it go. Narcissa was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, and she'd been the one to purposely rattle the hornet's nest. It was her own fault that Hermione was about to squash her.

Severus closed the door behind him and the two women faced each other without pretense for the first time. "That's better," Narcissa took another sip of her tea and then set it aside. "The two of us have a lot to discuss, and I think we will do better without a referee, don't you?"

"Severus obviously trusts me not to hex you into next week, or else he would have taken my wand with him when he left. That's the best I can offer."

"So hostile," Narcissa _tsk_ ed. "I certainly hope you're better company to Severus. He is my oldest friend. The only one left of the original group," she added softly. Her voice then grew sharp. "And I'm sure you understand that I don't have any intention of seeing him settled with a shrew."

Hermione set down her tea cup before she cracked it. "You saved Harry's life that night in the Forbidden Forest. That's the only reason I didn't forcefully expel you from our home for even insinuating that you might take the man that I love to your bed. Don't make the mistake of thinking that my courtesy will extend any further than that. If you try to meddle in our lives, or separate us, I assure you that you and I will have a falling out from which you will not soon recover."

Narcissa blanched at the venom in Hermione's voice, but recovered herself quickly. After all, she'd had a purpose in coming to the house the way she did. "So you _do_ love him."

"Of course I do."

"Well then, that makes this an entirely different matter." All the malice left Narcissa's face and when she smiled, this time it was genuine.

"What?" Hermione was taken aback at her sudden change in tack.

"You couldn't expect me to sit idly by while he dedicated his life to a woman who might not love him, could you? He has been through far too much to be subjected to such cruelty."

"You were baiting me just to make sure that I love Severus?"

"And partially to feel you out, I'll admit. Isn't it human nature to want to size up a new member of the pack?"

" _I_ am not a dog."

"I wasn't implying that you were, dear. Merely using an analogy. Besides, that wasn't even the main reason for my visit. In all the time since Severus told me about your... arrangement, he's never once mentioned you having said you love him. It's obvious, of course, that he is in love with you. But what was I supposed to think? Especially after all those horrid articles about you a few years ago."

"Rita Skeeter was writing tabloid trash. She had no interest in the truth, and purposely skewed what little facts there were in her stories. If you were putting any stock at all in what she wrote, then I fear for your intelligence."

"Touche, darling. I admit that I had my doubts about the source, but even still, one can never be too cautious. Whether you see my reasoning or not is a moot point, though. I have what I came for. I'm sure I don't need to make the requisite threats about what would happen to you should you hurt him?"

"If I thought there was any chance that I could change my mind about how I feel for him, I might feel it necessary to tell you that I would find threats from you about as terrifying as an overgrown flubber worm. Since I know that I would _never_ do anything to hurt him, with or without your input, I'll simply ignore that comment."

"It's no wonder he likes you," Narcissa said with a laugh. "You equal him in snide and in wit. Clearly you're a matched set." She rose and held out her hand for Hermione just as Severus walked back into the room. "It was lovely to see you again, Miss Granger. Sometime we will all have to have dinner together. My place, I think. I'll send you an owl."

"Sounds lovely, Narcissa," Severus said as he draped his arm over Hermione's shoulders. He could feel that she was still tense, but considering Narcissa wasn't a black stain on the rug, he imagined things had gone rather well. The blonde left through the floo in a puff of smoke and soot. "How much damage control do I need to do?"

"None."

"None? Really? I thought there would be at least one or two fires that would need put out."

"Don't get me wrong, I think she's a horrid woman and I probably always will. But I can see that in her own awful way she has your best interests at heart."

"Well. That's very... magnanimous of you."

"I still don't want her popping in and out of our floo."

"I've already updated the wards to warn us if she tries to come through."

"Good."

"Good."

"That's what I said."

Severus squinted at her. "You _really_ don't need anything else explained or need assured?"

"Just because I am irrationally possessive does not mean that I am wholly irrational, Severus. I can see that there isn't anything between you two except a friendly history. That doesn't mean that I won't hex her if she ever rubs that barbie doll body of hers against you, but for now, I'm willing to call a truce."

"Barbie doll body?"

"Just forget it." Hermione rolled her eyes at him and laughed. When she turned to leave the library he caught her around the middle and kissed behind her ear.

"I can't believe earlier you called me your _boyfriend._ It sounds so undignified..."


	15. Chapter 15

_**This is it, all. We have reached the end. Thank you all for sticking with it. I have enjoyed every single review! I could not ask for better readers. Enjoy!**_

A month passed, then two. Hermione found herself continually amazed at how easy it had been to slip into life with Severus Snape. Harry thought she was mad, of course. And Ron had opinions on the subject that she wouldn't dignify with repeating, thank you very much. But they didn't know him like she did. Even though Harry wanted to give the man his gratitude, wanted to acknowledge all the things he'd done for them over the years, it wasn't the same as _understanding_ him. To Harry, Snape was the man who'd fallen in love with his mother and spent the next twenty years trying to fix the mistake he'd made. Harry couldn't see the rigid moral code that Severus held himself to. He couldn't comprehend the depth of duty Severus had felt to all of them.

She did see those things.

She saw him exactly as he was, the good and the bad. He was cold and calculating, sarcastic and snide. But he was also generous to a fault, devastatingly patient, and more honorable than any man she'd ever met. He wasn't just his qualities, though. He was also a man who liked a dram of firewhiskey after a particularly rough night. A fallible human who sometimes forgot appointments. He was irrationally irritable in the mornings and took a frustratingly long time to make his move in chess. But all of those things only made him more lovable to Hermione. She didn't _want_ some dry literary figure or a larger than life hero. She wanted a real, tangible man, faults and all.

If it hadn't been for Sippy, Hermione might have been happy to go on living in the little bubble she and Severus had created for much longer. But it was inevitable that something would break the tranquility.

True to her promise, Hermione hadn't made a single attempt to force clothes on the house elves. After a while, they even became comfortable enough with her to talk a little. Sometimes she would go down to the kitchens in the mornings while Severus was still sleeping and make breakfast, Sippy, Tumy, and Skit flitting around her like irritated birds. It had become a game, of sorts. Hermione would set about gathering ingredients for what she wanted to make, and the elves would try their best to anticipate her needs. If she reached for the eggs, Sippy would offer her vegetables for an omlette, Tumy would get cheese and spices for scrambled eggs, and Skit would bring her flour, cocoa, and butter in case she meant to make a chocolate cake. Hermione would only laugh, get out the beans and sausage, and make the bangers and toast she'd intended all along.

Casually, Hermione began to bring up the subject of their freedom. They had all visibly flinched away from the idea and glared at her the first time she mentioned clothes. The second time, Tumy firmly told her that they had no intention of leaving Master Snape's service ever, so she needn't even try. Eventually, though, they were more willing to talk with her about the subject. Sippy opened up to her about how terrible it had been serving in the Malfoy household. She was hesitant to speak ill of her former master at all, but it was obvious that they had all despised the man.

Despite that, not a single one of them had ever thought of deserting Lucius. And eventually, Hermione learned that it was physically impossible for them. Not only were the elves naturally in possession of strong senses of loyalty, but they were bound by ancient magic to serve their respective wizard families. Hermione once more found herself outraged at the idea that there were such intelligent, compassionate, sensitive beings enslaved for the entirety of their lives. It didn't matter to her that most elves _enjoyed_ their service. She didn't care that most masters were nowhere near as terrible as Malfoy had been. The point was that they were denied the _choice_.

Hermione's mind turned to what could be done to change the bond between wizards and elves. Not something like S.P.E.W., but actual, useful litigation that might make the house elves capable of making their own decisions rather than force them to stay with masters who abused them. She no longer naively wanted to sever the bond between elves and wizards entirely- that would have made the elves miserable. Instead, she wanted to let them have the option to stay or go of their own free will.

The letter she sent to the Ministry was answered briefly, condescendingly, and prejudicially. Her second letter went directly to the International Tribunal. While it took longer for them to reply, at least she wasn't dismissed out of hand. Over several correspondence, she discovered that the magical binding between wizards and house elves had been made technically illegal by the Humane Treatment of Sentient Beings Act of 1899. Still, very little was being done to enforce that aspect of the law, particularly because no one had as yet found a way for the bond to be broken by anyone but the head of the household.

After expressing her outrage, the Humaniod Creature Representative she'd been writing to suggested that she apply to become a HCR of Great Britain and see if she couldn't enact the changes she wanted that way. Somewhat taken aback by the abrupt offer, Hermione had looked into the post and was horrified to learn that Great Britain had only _one_ HCR at the International Tribunal, a dottering old wizard who hadn't lobbied for any kind of action in decades. The inquiry she sent was met with resounding encouragement, offering her the position as soon as she wanted to take it.

The only thing that stopped Hermione from writing back and accepting on the spot, was her fear of how Severus would react. Not that she doubted he would be happy for her. He wanted nothing but the best for her, in all aspects of her life. He would realize that this was a golden opportunity for her, not only to make real changes for the better, but also to start off what was sure to be a spectacular career. Even still, it would mean the end of their vacation from reality. He had always been so careful to never talk about the practicalities of them living together if she needed to travel for work. Would he insist that she go off on her own? She didn't regret that he'd made them wait until after she'd finished university before starting a real relationship... but would he expect her to give up their life together so she could work? What about marriage and children? How long were those things to be put on hold?

By the time she decided to speak to him about it, she had worked up several speeches in her head. She had one for if he tried to suggest they live separately. One for if he thought they needed to 'take a break.' Three more for other various objections. She was ready for anything at all. Girded with cold rationality as well as the knowledge that she could simply seduce him if the conversation got off track and they needed a break, she marched into the library where he was reading while having his afternoon tea.

"Severus, I think we need to talk."

"Oh, I'm glad you think so. I have a bit of news I'd like to share too." He set aside his book and smiled at her. Hermione sat in the chair opposite his and braced for battle.

"Let me go first. I've been thinking all day about how to say this and I don't want to lose the words."

"Alright..." Concern started to cloud his features.

"You know I've been writing a representative at the International Tribunal about the house elves. And I'm sure you remember that my goal when I first started university was to someday have the opportunity to work either on the Tribunal or at the Ministry."

"Yes."

"Well, an opportunity has come up that I think I need to take. I can become an HCR for Great Britain, and from there if I decide later that I want to branch out, I'll already have my foot in the door to move to other areas. If I accept, they want me to start as soon as I can, which would mean a drastic change in the way we have been living. I would either need to live in Switzerland, or have a way to regularly travel to the Tribunal headquarters, and it would mean working long hours, as well as traveling to various conferences and hearings. I don't want you to think that-" She trailed off, surprised by the smile of delight on his face. "What?"

"That's an incredible opportunity for you, Hermione! I'm so happy for you." He rose, scooped her up from her chair, and spun her around. Before setting her back on her feet, he kissed her soundly.

"You're not... disappointed?"

"Disappointed? Why on earth would I be anything other than ecstatic?"

"Well I thought I would have to convince you that we could still live together, and that I don't want to put our lives on hold..."

" _Femina demens_ ," he whispered softly nuzzling her cheek, "you really _are_ mad if you think I am willing to let you go from my life so easily. How could I give you up now that I've got you?"

"But you never talk about the future! You are always so careful not to say anything that might suggest-"

"I haven't wanted to influence your decisions. They are yours alone to make. But you couldn't have thought that whatever choice you settled on, I wouldn't be there the whole time supporting you."

"I knew you would be supportive, but I worried you would think we needed to wait."

"Wait? For what?"

"For us to start the rest of our lives together."

He smiled down at her and shook his head. "The rest of my life started the moment you walked into our home." He hooked one of his fingers under the chain around her neck and lifted it until the pendant hanging from it caught the sunlight. The pad of his thumb rubbed briefly over the sparkling opal before he turned it over and showed her the engraving on the back. "When I first gave this to you, you asked me what it meant, _sunshine_ _on_ _snow._ I wasn't ready to explain... didn't think I could get the words right. It was the way I felt the first time you smiled at me. Not just smiled near me or gave a little half smile. But a full, honest smile directed right at me. It felt like I imagine snow feels the first time the sun shines on it. Warm and brilliant and inescapable. It shot right through me. I'd been cold and hard for so long. I truly thought whatever was left of my heart was frozen through. But every time I felt that smile, it was like the world was suddenly hot and bright and for the first time in my life I had the chance at a real future.

You are the light in my life, Hermione. And I never want to live in darkness again." He kissed her softly, then pulled a small box from his pocket. Hermione's heart rate doubled. "I've been carrying this around with me for a long time. I knew, back when I first gave you that necklace, that this was what I wanted. But it mattered very much to me that you find your own path first. I want to be your everything, but I'm not willing to hold you back in any way. Now that you've got your start, though, I don't want to wait one more minute." He went down to one knee and opened the box to reveal a sparkling opal and diamond ring. "Hermione Jean Granger, would you do me the great honor of spending your life with me? Will you marry me?"

She blinked back the tears that had suddenly clouded her vision and tried to speak past the lump in her throat. "Yes," she whispered. Then louder, "Yes!" As soon as he slid the ring on her finger, he rose and kissed her fiercely.

"You'll be mine forever?" he asked, as if he couldn't truly believe his luck.

Hermione nodded, knowing that whatever else came, whatever happened, they would tackle it together. "For even longer than that."


End file.
